


And Are Black And Blue

by Orcusnox (Cat9894)



Series: The Boys Wear Red And Are Black And Blue [2]
Category: Avengers, Deadpool (Comics), Spiderman - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Also some very awesome ass kicking, Based on someone else's verse, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Flip Side AU, Hero!Wade, M/M, Merc!Peter, Oh and a crossbow, Peter goes soul-searching, There's a pretty badly broken ankle, Torture, the swirl attacks again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 62,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat9894/pseuds/Orcusnox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Wade's relationship might be back on track, but their lives are far more hectic.</p><p>(This summary is officially a lie. Well, one part is. You'll have to read it to find out which part~)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

    Peter was sitting at the bar, playing with the bowl of nuts he’d snatched from the old guy in the wheelchair without so much as a ‘sorry’. The paraplegic hadn’t seemed to mind, although he’d given Peter a long, searching look that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His eyes had reminded him of Mimic’s, even if the old guy had blue eyes instead of red.

    [There are too many people here.]

    {Can we kill some of them?}

    [All of them.]

    Peter tossed a nut into the air, catching it between two fingers and crushing it without any apparent effort. “I figure we could maybe take down half of these guys before they killed us,” Peter mused, letting the nut dust crumble through his fingers. The woman sitting closest to him – her hair was white, was that a new trend? – looked at him with disgust before moving away.

    “And that’s only because I’m not armed!” he called, smirking to himself when the woman glared at him over her shoulder. And then he sighed, staring at the ridiculous amount of bodies crammed into the lower floors of Stark’s tower.

    [Oh look, Wade’s the life of the party.]

    “Of course,” Peter replied, glaring at the suited up hero. “It’s _his_ party.”

    That’s right. Stark had thrown Wade a _party_. And invited everyone and their cousin.

    Peter didn’t really know anyone. He didn’t exactly care, either. There was a hot guy hanging with a pretty blonde – seriously, he’d brushed past the guy earlier on and it felt like his skin was on _fire_. There was a blue-skinned man, a guy with horns, a guy with _wings_ , as well as an assortment of other random people that Peter would have preferred never to meet.

    There hadn’t been any real reason for the party that Peter knew about. Wade had just announced one morning a week ago that Stark was going to throw a party in his honour, and if there was anyone Peter wanted to invite.

    Peter had kicked him out of the bed and ignored him for the rest of the day. It wasn’t like he could threaten Wade with no sex, either, because Wade had sat him down after their emotional reunion and made a list of _rules_.

    The first and most important rule was that they had to talk. A lot. About important things, not just running their mouths. Peter had agreed to that only because he knew Wade would have as much trouble with that as he would. If they were angry about something, they had to talk before they had sex.

    Which came to rule number two: No sex if they didn’t talk. About important things. And feelings. Wade had very clearly explained that he expected Peter to tell him things – it could just be how his day had been, or it could be something to do with his past. Peter agreed to _that_ because Wade promised to return the favour.

    Rule number three had something to do with killing innocent people, and rule number four was something about secrets and not keeping them. And rule number five was that they should go out on dates as often as possible.

    Peter really didn’t mind the last rule.

    {Seriously, can we please kill someone?}

    “We can’t kill people at a party,” Peter replied, crushing another nut. “It’s poor taste.”

    [We never made Osborn a cake.]

    {We can kill _him_!}

    Peter hummed. “Working on it,” he said.

    “Working on what?” a rough voice asked.

    Peter jerked around, grinning widely. “Logan! Fancy seeing your short, hairy ass here!”

    {Wolvie!}

    [And of course he has a beer.]

    “Spider,” Logan greeted him, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. He probably didn’t appreciate people making fun of his height, but Peter couldn’t really find it in himself to care. “Didn’t think Tony would have invited you.”

    Peter fluttered his eyelashes. “Haven’t you heard, Logan? Wade and I are an _item_. I kill, he saves, we fuck, make a mess of Stark’s expensive sheets – I’m not kidding, we had sex in his bedroom once. Now _that_ was what I call a rush. You should have seen his _face_ when he came in! Stark’s, not Wade’s. Although Wade’s face was _hilarious_ too!”

    Logan grunted. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

    {Huh?}

    [Say what?]

    Peter gaped at him. “You’re not?” he asked, tilting his head questioningly to the side.

    Logan took another long swallow from his beer before he answered. “He thinks all he deserves are the broken ones,” Logan rumbled, and Peter wasn’t sure if he should feel insulted or just sit and listen to the mutant. “The ones no one else wants. That’s probably what drew him to you in the first place.” Logan tipped his head back, swallowing down the fourth – or was it fifth? – beer.

    Peter nodded, his eyes finding the red and black clad hero dancing energetically around the party-goers, much to their amusement. “We thought it was something like that,” Peter admitted. “He was willing to give us a chance we didn’t deserve.”

    [No one dates us.]

    {No one even likes us.}

    “What about you?”

    Peter tore his eyes away from Wade to raise an eyebrow. “What about me?”

    Logan nodded at Wade, who’d somehow managed to rope a woman with brown and white hair into dancing the Macarena. “What drew you to him?”

    [That’s like asking what the meaning of life is. No, fuck. I’m still mad.]

    {Pancakes!}

    “Shush,” Peter muttered. “I am _trying_ to have a normal conversation. If you two don’t behave, I’m going to play with my chemistry set and find a way to shut you both up.”

    [And if you kill yourself in the process?]

    Peter snorted. “Hey, at least I’ll take you down with me. I gotta answer a question.”

    {There was a question? Oh yeah, the meaning of life!}

    “What? No, not the meaning of life!”

    [Although I’m pretty sure the answer works just as well.]

    Peter tilted his head, considering. “Pancakes,” he said. “Ever had a Wade Wilson pancake? They’re to kill for. I mean, they aren’t perfect, but I would kill for some. And his _tacos_.”

    [You’d kill for money too.]

    {Not too picky, are you?}

    “Of course, I _do_ like killing, so maybe that’s a moot point.” Peter pursed his lips. “I could _not_ kill for them? Maybe?”

    “So you’re fucking him because of his pancakes and his tacos?” Logan asked, grinning.

    “He’s fucking me,” Peter shot back. “And no, of course that’s not the only reason! Sheesh, what am I, Barbie?”

    Logan snorted. “You haven’t got the chest, bub.”

    [Or the sparkling personality.]

    {Come on Barbie let’s go party!}

    “Ah-ah-ah-yeah.”

    {I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world.}

    [Life in plastic, it’s fantastic.]

    “You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere!”

    {We should sing this to Wade!}

    Peter nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

    “What’s a good idea?” Logan asked.

    “Oh right. You were here. We were having a conversation. Boxes distracted me!” Peter gave Logan a bright, innocent smile. “What were we talking about?”

    Logan rolled his eyes and muttered something into his beer that Peter didn’t catch. “We were talking about Wade.”

    It was all coming back to him. “Right. Pancakes. Tacos. Barbie. No chest. See? I’m all over this.”

    “Glad to hear it, bub.”

    [That’s starting to annoy me.]

    {Seconded! I forgot he does that!}

    “Pancakes. He’s fit too. You know, Darwin’s Theory of Evolution. Survival of the fittest.” Peter waved a hand at Wade. “He’s _fit_. Good at sex. Sense of humour. He fights with fucking _katanas_ , man. Have you _seen_ him move? It’s beautiful. The guns are a bit iffy, but the swords. Swords are just big knives, am I right? And I like knives.”

    “Heard you like poison more,” Logan replied.

    Peter nodded vigorously. “Poisons are fun to make, but knives are _intimate_ , you know? Kind of hard to miss out on the fun bits. You’d know.”  Peter stretched out a finger to tap the back of Logan’s hand.

    The other man growled. “Careful there, bub.”

    Peter hummed thoughtfully. “I keep meaning to take care of the remainders,” he muttered to himself.

    “The remainders of what?”

    “The people who did this to you. And Wade.” He watched the stiffness creeping into Logan’s limbs. “They’re still going at it. Beating corpses, if you ask me. They’re too focused on the wrong aspects.”

    [Idiots.]

    {Morons.}

    “But whatevs.” Peter waved a dismissive hand. “I just need to write myself a note. I’ll take care of it before the nine headed problem, I think,” he added musingly.

    “Why do you care, bub? This doesn’t concern you.” Logan’s voice, Peter noticed, had gotten even rougher, and the tips of his claws were poking through the skin on the back of his hands.

    “Of course it does,” Peter replied, offended. “They hurt Wade!”

    {We have to let them know that’s a bad idea.}

    [Plus, they’re still after him. Jesus, I don’t fucking care!]

    Peter nodded. “I know what they did to him. I know what they did to you. They deserve whatever comes to them.”

    [We’re coming at them.]

    {And boy, are they unprepared!}

    Logan stared at him. “How do you know they’re still alive?”

    “Well, organisations like that have a horrible habit of sticking around,” Peter said. “Like Hydra. Plus, I’m pretty sure they’ve contacted me a few times. Not worth the effort, given what they were paying.”

    “And you’re just happy to fuck them up? Just like that?”

    Peter hummed. “Well, money would be nice, of course. But you know,” he continued, staring at Wade, “sometimes he still wakes up in the middle of the night. Nightmares. Night terrors. Memories. Maybe it’s too hopeful, but I like to think that once I kill them all, he’ll sleep better at night.”

    [Wishful thinking.]

    {Memories don’t just _go away_.}

    [Would be nice.]

    {If all the shit in our head just vanished, that’d be great.}

    “So you’re planning to find them and kill them,” Logan surmised, starting another beer.

    Peter hummed. “I’ve narrowed it down already. Gotta work a bit faster, though… The fingers are starting to itch…”

    Logan was silent for a moment. “Will you need help?” he asked abruptly.

    [Oh, _yes_ please!]

    “You want to help?” Peter asked, tilting his head. “It’ll involve killing, you know. I thought you were reformed. Or some shit.”

    Logan snorted. “Those fuckers deserve to die,” he rumbled. “I’m not averse to helping you out. Get a little bit of payback.” He paused. “I think Wilson would help too, if you asked him.”

    [ _No_.]

    {Not gonna happen.}

    Peter shook his head. “No. I’m not telling him they’re still kicking. Fuck that. And if _you_ tell him, I’ll kill you.”

    “Can’t kill me, bub.”

    “How much do you want to bet?” Peter snarled. “I have a brain that works _at least_ 20% faster than those shmucks who made Wade. I have spent the majority of the last three years getting paid to kill people in vague and unsettling ways. I am _not_ an idiot, nor am I a very good person. Swirl aside, I’m the worst kind of person you’ll ever meet.”

    “You have a point, bub?”

    “Of course I do, I’m just taking the scenic route. The _point_ is that I have already hypothesised several treatments that will _actually_ kill my boyfriend. And if they work on him – we haven’t tested it, because we quite like him _alive_ – they’ll definitely work on _you_. Pointy enough for you?”

    [We have arrived at our destination.]

    {Thank you for choosing the Spider train!}

    “He deserves to know,” Logan rumbled.

    “He’ll know when I’ve finished hunting down every last one of those rats,” Peter replied, voice hard. “Not before.”

    “Fine. You’ve made your point. I’ll help you out, and I won’t say anything to Wade. But I still think he deserves to know.”

    “He deserves better than _me_ ,” Peter murmured. The dancefloor was full, and now Wade was dancing the Nutbush, grinning when more and more people joined in. Peter was sure he saw Stark’s stupid head in the middle of the dancing idiots.

    Logan snorted, seemingly unbothered by the subject change. “I think he’s capable of making decisions for himself, bub.” Peter bristled – what _was_ it with people and pet names? “What do you deserve?”

    Peter titled his head, anger forgotten. “You know, I wouldn’t have picked you as the inquisitive type,” Peter noted. “I’d have figured you’d be sullen and silent, brooding over your beers.”

    [How many has he had?]

    “Don’t know, don’t care. As long as he doesn’t puke on me.” Peter narrowed his eyes at Logan. “You’re _not_ going to puke on me, right?”

    “I won’t puke on you, bub.”

    [Are we going to answer his question?]

    “Question?”

    {What we deserve!}

    “Oh. Right. You mean in general?” Peter asked Logan.

    Logan opened another beer. “If that’s easier,” he replied.

    Peter grinned brightly. “That’s real easy. I deserve to be tortured to within an inch of my life, over and over again. And have _things_ done to me.”

    [Like cutting.]

    {Bleeding.}

    “Getting beaten up,” Peter added in a sing song voice.

    [Raped.]

    {Electrocution!}

    “Having my nails pulled out.”

    [Broken bones.]

    {Glass.}

    “Oh, _acid_.”

    [Fire.]

    {Drowning.}

    “Poisoned.”

    [Experimented on.]

    {Locked up.}

    “In a cage.”

    The sound of breaking glass shattered Peter’s concentration. He blinked, staring at Logan, who was hunched over the bar, shoulders trembling while his fists closed around the remains of the bottle of beer. The amber liquid was spilled across the bench, dripping into Logan’s lap.

    [Did we trigger him?]

    “Bugger,” Peter muttered. He gave Logan’s shoulder a tentative pat. “Hey man, sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have. It’s totally unintentional, I swear. I mean, you’ve heard of me, yeah? Insane mercenary? I talk _all_ the time, have conversations with the boxes that I’m told are _completely_ inappropriate, and manners?” Peter snorted. “Between you and me, I can’t even remember the face of the person who taught me _manners_ – [{Liar!}] – so don’t even get me started on that.”

    [Oh man he’s not responding!]

    {What do we do?}

    “I don’t know,” Peter hissed frantically. “I’m better at making situations _worse_!”

    [You’re doing a fantastic job of that.]

    “Oh, stick a chainsaw up your ass, White.” Peter turned caught sight of Wade, and tried to wave him over. But either Wade was having too much fun, or he couldn’t see Logan slumped over the bar, because he just grinned at Peter – so wide and bright that something in Peter’s chest started to ache – and waved back at him.

    Peter rolled up his sleeves. “When you want something done,” he muttered, lining up, “do it yourself.” He flexed his wrist, and his web caught Wade’s back. Peter pulled, Wade stumbled, and they kept that up until Peter was satisfied he had Wade’s complete attention.

    He spat some venom on his webs – the only way to cut it without his knives which he hadn’t, for some reason, been allowed to bring – and waited impatiently for Wade to make his way over.

    “What happened?” Wade asked upon perceiving Logan.

    Peter shrugged helplessly. “I might have fucked up?” he offered.

    Logan sat up, catching Wade’s suit and pulling him close. “I have to talk to you,” he snarled.

    Peter tensed, but Wade just nodded. “Wait here,” he told Peter, before pulling Logan away from the bar.

    “Why do people think I’ll do what they tell me to?” Peter demanded after a moment. “I mean, seriously, ‘wait here’?”

    [How about no.]

    Peter nodded. “Spot on, White.” Flicking a web at the ceiling, Peter pulled himself up and followed the pair.

 

* * *

* * *

 

    “You keep that kid close, you understand me?” Logan growled, poking a finger at Wade’s chest. “You don’t let him out of your sight.”

    “Wow, Wolvie, what happened?” Wade asked, holding up his hands. Peter couldn’t see his expression from where he was perched on the ceiling.

    Logan huffed out a breath. “I don’t care how unhinged he is, no one deserves that,” he muttered to himself.

    Wade, predictably, froze. “Logan.” There was a hard, dangerous note in Wade’s voice Peter hadn’t heard for a while. “What did he say?”

    “I asked him what he deserved,” Logan replied. “I don’t think you want to know what he said.”

    Wade made a frustrated noise. “I think that if I didn’t already have an idea I wouldn’t have asked.”

    Logan nodded once. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, bub.”

    [Hey, maybe he just calls everyone bub.]

    {Stiiiiill…}

    _I don’t like it_.

    {That pretty much sums up my feelings too!}

    [I think that sums up all of our feelings.]

    _Honestly, bub?_

    {Next thing, it’ll be bae.}

    [Oh god. No.]

    _Bacon and eggs?_

    {Yum!}

    [Pancakes are better.]

    {But of course.}

    _That doesn’t mean bacon and eggs aren’t nice_ , Peter pointed out. He shifted his grip on the wall, pressing his back against the ceiling. _You can have maple syrup and bacon._

    Yellow hummed in delight. {I want that for breakfast tomorrow!}

    [I can’t remember if we’ve ever had bacon and maple syrup.]

    _I think we have, I can’t remember exactly when –_

    Peter cut himself off, his spider sense tingling in warning. His eyes landed on a very annoyed looking Wade, mask held in his hand. Logan was nowhere to be seen.

    {He’s mad again!}

    [We really have to stop making him mad.]

    {But angry sex is the _best_.}

    “You been up there long, Peter?” Wade asked. “Hear everything?”

    {Nah, we zoned out for a bit there.}

    “Up until the part where Logan started repeating what I said,” Peter replied. “That was boring.”

    [Oh boy, look at that frown.]

    “Boring,” Wade repeated.

    Peter nodded. “It’s like when you say the same thing over and over again until it doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

    {Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter…}

    “Shut up, Yellow,” Peter snapped.

    Yellow giggled. {Just testing!}

    “Test on White, you ungrateful little shit!”

    [Hey, I’m sitting here minding my own business.]

    “For once.”

    [I resent the implication that I’m annoying.]

    {I’m _more_ annoying. I have a trophy.}

    “And that is _nothing_ to be proud of.”

    “Baby boy, why did you say that?” Peter glanced down at Wade, trying to give him his whole attention, but it was hard with the boxes still yammering in his head. “To Logan,” Wade clarified.

    “I said I was sorry if I triggered him,” Peter said. “I honestly didn’t mean to do it.”

    Wade sighed. “You didn’t trigger him. Logan’s tough. I’m asking _why_ you said what you did.”

    [I don’t get it.]

    {Seconded!}

    “Thirded! I obviously said it because I meant it? I mean, I joke around a lot, but shit like that isn’t really a joking matter. Not to mention, I’ve done plenty of those things to other people. Why shouldn’t I get what’s coming to me?” Peter settled himself more firmly onto the wall before ticking off on his fingers. “I’ve killed people, tortured them, healed them back up and then tortured them again and again until they couldn’t even remember their own _name_.”

    [But we’ve never raped anyone.]

    “No, because that is Very Bad Thing,” Peter agreed. “Hits a little too close to home, yeah?”

    {As opposed to murder?}

    Peter stuck his tongue out. “Don’t lie, you enjoy it as much as I do.”

    [The whole morality thing aside, we prefer to get fucked now anyway.]

    “There is that.”

    {And we have someone _willing_ to fuck us. Why do we need to force anyone?}

    “Exactly!”

    “Baby boy,” Wade sighed. “Come down.”

    Peter obediently dropped to the ground. “The point is, I said it because that’s what I deserve,” Peter said. “Sure, I can redeem myself a little in doing business with you guys and Fury. If you believe that sort of sales pitch, which I find ridiculous. So I’m officially screwed whatever I do, right?”

    Wade’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he growled.

    [Funny, because I distinctly recall _you_ being the one who hurt us so bad we ran to die.]

    “Shut up, White,” Peter snapped tersely.

    “He’s still mad at me?” Wade asked, shoulders drooping.

    {Now look what you’ve done!}

    “Yes, he is.” Peter didn’t see any point in lying – White was being a dick and _Peter_ was the one who had to deal with it, not Wade. But they were together now, and wasn’t that what people did? Shared things with each other?

    White snorted on a laugh. [Look at you, trying to be in a relationship when you have _no idea_ what a normal one actually looks like.]

    “At least I’m not moping,” Peter replied.

    {Neither of us are _normal_ ,} Yellow added.

    “Exactly!”

    [You’re both idiots,] White snapped. [This won’t end well.]

    {If we have our way,} Yellow said, {this _won’t end_.}

    Peter nodded in agreement. “So suck on a lollipop, White. We’re staying. Second chances, yada yada. We lo –” Peter cut himself off, nose wrinkled. “We _like_ each other,” he finished after a short pause. “A lot.”

    “Everything alright, you two?” someone asked, and Peter whirled around to see Banner standing awkwardly by the door, an untouched glass of wine in his hand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he added hastily, “it’s just Tony was looking for Wade, seeing as this is his party…” Banner trailed off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

    “We can talk later,” Peter said, jumping in before Wade could say a word. “After the party. There are… _People_ out there. For you. I may not have been to many parties – at least, not one’s that I’ve been invited to – but I know the life of the party isn’t supposed to be… Not at the party?”

    [Smooth.]

    {Well he’s not wrong. Wade should be dancing! He looks real nice when he dances.}

    Peter hummed. “Go dance,” he said to Wade, waving a hand when he opened his mouth to speak. His lips quirked up in a sly grin. “I like watching you dance,” he admitted, and he wondered if this counted towards rule numbed two.

    {Yes!}

    [No?]

    Wade’s responding smile was bright, and he slipped on his mask and bounded back into the dancing mess of people. Peter flicked his eyes at Banner, who was still standing awkwardly, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

    “Can we help you?” Peter asked.

    [Don’t stare, it totally makes us antsy.]

    {We should one on one the Hulk!}

    “That _would_ be interesting,” Peter agreed. “It would liven up the party so much!”

    [I don’t know, it’s lively already.]

    “That’s because the life of the party returned.”

    Banner cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but _who_ are you talking to?”

    [Is he the first one to ask that?]

    {Nah, I think Wade did in like… Chapter one of the first story.}

    “Oh Banner, life is so much easier when you just let things slide,” Peter whined, bouncing on his toes when Wade vanished from his line of sight. “Let it go, let it go,” he muttered to himself.

    [Yes, because we are _definitely_ temperamental ice queens,] White said dryly.

    {Can’t hold it back anymore!} Yellow giggled. {I’m going to be singing that just before we shoot a load now.}

    White made a disgusted noise. [You sick fuck. That’s a song from a child’s show!]

    Peter laughed. “That’s perfect. But there is a line that describes us perfectly. Even White can’t argue.”

    [Challenge accepted!]

    “No right, no wrong, no rules for me! I’m free!” Peter twirled, snickering to himself.

    {LET IT GO!}

    [Ha, we have rules now, remember?]

    Peter stopped twirling and glared. “What? No! I didn’t sign any stupid SHIELD papers, damnit!”

    [Wade’s rules.]

    “Oh.” Peter’s tense posture relaxed. “They don’t really count?”

    [Why not?]

    {Because Wade!}

    “Spider… Peter…” Banner stopped. “What would you prefer I call you?” he asked.

    {Peter is for Wade!}

    “I thought baby boy was for Wade?”

    [You two need to focus.]

    {Everything is for Wade.}

    [Not me, thank you very much.]

    “Why aren’t you partying?” Peter asked abruptly, blinking at Banner. “You have a drink, this is more your crowd than mine, and Widow is totally keeping an eye on you. You noticed that, right? Because boy, I think she has the hots for you big time, and it’s not even the big guy she likes, it’s _you_! Little nerdy Banner, with his little nerdy glasses and his nerdy speaking. That must feel good, right?”

    {He looks _so_ uncomfortable.}

    [This is exactly why we’re never invited to parties.]

    “… I don’t actually wear glasses,” Banner replied after a lengthy pause.

    [{What?!}]

    Peter gaped. “No, I’m really sure you do. I mean, you always have glasses in your movies… I think… Now I’m not so sure.”

    [Even if he doesn’t, he should!]

    {Yeah, he’s a nerd! Nerds wear glasses!}

    “Even I wore glasses at one point!” Peter exclaimed. “It’s like obligatory nerd-wear! Banner, you’re letting nerds down everywhere!”

    Banner looked lost. “I thought that was dorks?”

    “No way, calling someone a dork is _rude_ ,” Peter said, wagging a finger at the other man. “But nerds, nerds are cool! Just like bowties and fezzes! And other timey-wimey things!”

    Banner gave him a surprised smile. “So you like Doctor Who?”

    {Wasn’t he in the conference call shit with Mal?} Yellow asked.

    Peter’s brow furrowed. “You weren’t in the conference call with Fury?” he asked. When Banner looked at him a little blankly, Peter cocked his head.

    [Did we count wrong?]

    “Nah, no way! I heard lots of people breathing!”

    {We don’t count wrong with that type of thing.}

    Peter nodded sagely. “Need to be accurate so I know how many people are standing behind that wall, how many times I have to swing my knives, relative positions of my canvases…” Peter was distracted when he caught sight of Wade doing a ridiculous jig that ended in an equally ridiculous pose and the amusement of all watching.

    Wade caught him watching and winked, exaggerating the movements so that there was no way Peter could miss it. The song changed, and Wade dropped the pose to bounce up and down on the spot, excitedly saying something to the white-haired woman from the bar.

    “I actually came over to congratulate you,” Banner said. Peter glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “On joining the Avengers.”

    [“Congrats on becoming less of a bad guy”?]

    {No way! “Congrats on banging the hottest hunk of meat on this team and getting into the good guy club even though you’re not technically a good guy”.}

    [That was way too long.]

    {Well yours was just wrong!}

    [Okay, fine. “Congrats on being stupid enough to think you have a chance at this hero bullshit”.]

    Yellow gasped. {That’s just mean!}

    “White, if you weren’t in my head I’d smack you with a crowbar,” Peter said. “You’re being way too sullen and it’s getting on every one of my nerves. Have a teaspoon a cement and harden the fuck up, you little shit.”

    {Don’t be a baby!} Yellow agreed.

    It took him a moment to realize Banner was still there. “Oh right. Thanks, Banner! Geeze, this team up is going to be fun! Imagine all the good stuff you’ll do, and all the sort-of-decent-if-you-squint stuff I’ll do! Everyone seems to think I can’t throw my knives to just hurt people, but jokes on them because they’re all just _missing_!”

    Banner’s smile was a little forced. “Well, it’s been nice talking with you,” he said, and Peter was surprised he’d bothered with the pleasantries, “but I should go…” Banner waved an awkward hand in the direction of the party and walked away.

    {He’s nice,} Yellow said.

    [Not bad, although he _did_ ask us to save Stark.]

    Peter wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. That was a red mark, huh?”

    [Just a bit.]

    {It’s nothing like Widow’s red mark.}

    [Or Stark’s.]

    {Or Fury’s. I totally want to snap his dick.}

    [Or Wade’s.]

    “Wade’s was removed,” Peter said quietly. “A second chance.”

    [You know I don’t agree with that.]

    {Hard not to – you keep complaining about it!}

    “But it’s two against one, so keep your nasty comments reserved until we’re alone, yeah? We’ve already hurt him, he’s hurt us… No point playing the blame game here.”

    White muttered something that might have been an agreement, and Peter decided he wanted an aerial view of the party. The rest of the night saw him perched on the ceiling, watching the party-goers and humming along to the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it was almost finished! Have a first chapter, and don't forget to tell me what you think!
> 
> (Banner needed some screen time, so here he is.)


	2. Chapter 2

    The party ended with many heartfelt goodbyes for Wade and the other Avengers, promises to catch up soon, and a lot of suspicious glares shot towards Peter. He didn’t move from the ceiling, watching the guests as they filed out.

    Stark turned back to the Avengers once they were all gone. “I think that was a day well spent,” he proclaimed.

    [Of course he does.]

    {He’s the host.}

    Peter hummed in agreement, catching Wade’s attention. He grinned up at Peter, beckoning him down. Peter dropped silently to the floor.

    “Did you have fun, baby boy?” Wade asked, bouncing over to Peter.

    Stark snorted. “Who cares? The party was for _you_ , not _him_.”

    Wade’s face twitched beneath the mask. “I care, Tony. If other people don’t have fun, then that’s no good.”

    {He’s so sweet,} Yellow cooed.

    [We’re going to get cavities.]

    Peter patted his palm against Wade’s covered cheek. “I had fun,” he said simply. It wasn’t worth a fight, and Peter _had_ had fun – mainly because after he’d relocated to the ceiling, Mimic had appeared to toss him a full bowl of nuts with a wink, and he’d spent the rest of the evening throwing nuts at people.

    Banner – one of his accidental victims (he’d been aiming for that white-haired woman, but she’d moved at the exact wrong moment) – pressed his fist to his mouth, fighting a smile.

    Wade grinned. “That’s good,” he replied, nuzzling into Peter’s palm like an affectionate puppy. Peter felt his cheeks getting hot, and shot a panicked look at Mimic, who was laughing silently behind the Avengers. “We should have a date tomorrow!” Wade exclaimed. “I know a really good noodle place.”

    [Dates were part of the rules.]

    {Date!!} Yellow screamed.

    Peter flinched, rubbing his temples. Mimic muttered something rude under her breath. “Yellow’s excited,” Peter said. “Think excited-hormonal-teenage-girl-with-glitter-and boy-band-posters scream and you get a sort of idea about how loud he just screamed the word ‘date’.”

    {We get another date!}

    Wade blinked. “That’s… Really fucking excited.”

    “Language,” Rogers sighed.

    “Very loud,” Mimic said from the back.

    “So that’s a yes?” Wade asked hopefully.

    [Do we have to spell this out for him?]

    “We’ll go on a date with you,” Peter said, and Wade whooped and drew him into a tight hug. Hackles raised, Peter struggled for all of three seconds before he relaxed into the embrace.

    {He’s so cute,} Yellow cooed.

    [I want to punch him.]

    {Literally no one cares, White.}

 

* * *

* * *

  

    Wade dragged Peter back to his room for the night, ignoring – or maybe not even noticing – the looks the Avengers threw his way. Peter made sure to glare back at them, but when he got to Banner his glare faltered and he offered the man a half nod and a wave.

    [Are we not worried about the fact he _wasn’t_ in the conference call?] White asked.

    {Should we be?}

    [It doesn’t strike you as odd?]

    {A little… But I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about!}

    “You alright?” Wade murmured, pushing Peter to sit on the bed. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

    The ‘It’s nothing’ was on the tip of Peter’s tongue, but he paused when he remembered the rule.

    [Which rule? They all suck.]

    “Banner wasn’t in the conference call with Fury,” Peter replied carefully. “White thinks it’s suspicious, because we _counted_ eight people.” He glanced at Wade. “You were there, right?”

    Wade nodded, tugging off his mask and gloves. “Bruce was in the labs. He had some report to do – it involved some very big words and had Fury’s complete attention for a moment, so I wasn’t exactly interested.”

    Peter wrinkled his nose. “We counted eight,” he repeated. “Eight heartbeats, eight different breaths.”

    Wade paused. “And you don’t miscount that sort of thing, right?”

    {Right!}

    “Right,” Peter agreed. He kicked off his shoes petulantly.

    [Well if Banner wasn’t there, it means someone else was.]

    “Mmm, right you are. But does it _matter_?”

    [Well, we still don’t know how those things were planted. The acid, the knife in the back – the Avengers didn’t do it, and Osborn would have left a scent.]

    {Maybe he has a person on his payroll?}

    “What kind of a person doesn’t leave a scent, though?” Peter demanded.

    [No idea.]

    {Search me!}

    Wade pulled off his shirt. “What does a scent have to do with Bruce not being at the call?” he asked, toeing off his boots.

    Peter blinked. “Oh. Well, White pointed out we still don’t know how everything was planted. He thinks that whoever was in the room instead of Banner could be our guy. Or gal,” he added after a pause. “You never know with these things, I guess.”

    “But the problem with that is…?”

    “Invisibility isn’t meant to fool anything but your eyes,” Peter said, flopping back on the bed to glare at the ceiling. “You don’t lose your scent just because you’re invisible. If someone runs into you, they’re going to feel you. And of course, if you decided to bite an invisible person, they’d still taste just the same.”

    [Speaking of, why aren’t you hungry?]

    {Oh yeah, we haven’t had a person for a while.}

    “I think _he_ took that,” Peter muttered. “I don’t think I’ll need to eat again.”

    {…Never?}

    “Never.”

    [No chance of you turning full spider?] White asked, sounding worried.

    Peter grunted. “No idea. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

    Wade crawled onto the bed, tugging at Peter’s clothes. “Off,” he said. Peter watched his thick fingers deftly undoing his buttons for a few seconds before he batted Wade’s hands away.

    “I can undress myself,” Peter said.

    “And you look so good doing it,” Wade added, smirking when Peter’s cheeks began to burn.

    “Have we satisfied the requirements for sex?” Peter asked, letting his eyes trail over the dips and ridges of Wade’s torso. He poked Wade’s bellybutton, grinning at the shocked look he received.

    “Baby boy, I almost think that’s the only thing you think about!”

    {Maybe a little.}

    [We also think about killing people.]

    “And I _know_ which one you’d prefer,” Peter purred, sitting up on his knees to run his fingers over Wade’s rough skin, fascinated by the change in texture and temperature. The scars were warmer than the unblemished patches of Wade’s skin. Experimentally, Peter leaned in and gave one a lick, laving his tongue along the sharp edge of Wade’s hip.

    Wade made a noise, carding his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Little to the right there, baby boy.”

    {Oh, dessert!}

    Peter ignored Wade, trailing his tongue up, over the ridges of Wade’s muscled stomach and dipping into his bellybutton. He went further up, curling his tongue around Wade’s nipple before giving it a gentle nip. The groan he received made him grin against Wade’s skin.

    He kept going up, biting thoughtfully at Wade’s collarbone before sucking a mark onto Wade’s neck, pulling back to watch the mark vanish. Peter made a dissatisfied noise, which turned into a surprised gasp when Wade abruptly pushed him onto his back.

    “You’re wearing too many clothes,” Wade breathed.

    Peter laughed. “Well, I certainly can’t take them off now.”

    {Spiiiidey,} Yellow whined. {I wanna sex!}

    [What’s new?] White asked, but Peter thought he sounded a little breathless himself.

    “You’re a tease,” Wade said. “A fucking tease. _Dios_.”

    Peter shivered. “You like it,” he replied, aiming for sultry and confident and missing by a mile. His voice came out meek and questioning.

    “I _love_ it,” Wade growled, and the next thing Peter knew he was completely naked and Wade was kissing him. It wasn’t quite as hard and fast as Peter remembered their other kisses being – it was gentle, slow and so achingly sweet he felt his chest throb.

    Peter pressed up, wrapping his arms and legs around Wade. He ran his fingers over Wade’s head, tickling the sensitive skin behind his ears until Wade made a displeased sound and bit Peter’s tongue. They broke apart, Peter snickering and Wade glaring.

    “Sorry,” Peter said, not sounding very sorry at all. “It’s nice that I’m not the only one with weak spots.”

    Wade’s glare melted away and he leaned back in. “I have one very big weak spot,” Wade said, nuzzling Peter’s throat until Peter tilted his head back, pressing kisses into the vulnerable skin.

    Peter hummed. “And that is?”

    “You,” Wade whispered.

    Peter blinked and shifted so that he could see Wade’s eyes. The weight of the emotions he could see in Wade’s blue eyes had him biting his lip.

    {Holy hell, we are so screwed.}

    [That’s what I’ve been saying!]

    {He’s taken our heart. All of it.}

    [Wait, what?]

    {We’re never going to be able to escape from this.}

    […Never?]

    {Never.}

    “Paint yourself a picture of what you wished you looked like. Maybe then they just might feel an ounce of your pain.” Peter pressed a kiss to Wade’s cheek. “There’s no need to be ashamed. ‘Cause they don’t even know you, all they see is scars. They don’t see the angel living in your heart.”

    {Ugh, it’s like the song was written _for_ him!}

    “Let them know with all you’ve got that you are not your skin,” Peter whispered, pressing his lips to Wade’s. “You might be my weakness too,” he admitted, teeth tugging gently on Wade’s earlobe.

    There was no frantic fucking. The two spent the night learning each other, fingers tracing the lines of each other’s bodies and tongues learning the taste of every inch of skin. Teeth tested the give of skin, learning how hard to bite and leave a mark.

    Wade learned that the arches of Peter’s feet were ticklish. He learned that the holes on his wrists where his webs came from were extremely sensitive. If he pressed them, slowly increasing the pressure, it took barely any time for Peter to become an incoherent mess.

    Peter found the spot on Wade’s neck that invariably had the man choking back a moan. He learned that Wade liked to watch when Peter sucked his fingers – his eyes turned black and lidded over, which in turn got Peter all hot and bothered. Peter learned that the undersides of Wade’s arms were particularly sensitive, and that brushing his fingers up Wade’s ribs made him scowl.

    They fell asleep to the music of each other’s heartbeats, content smiles on their faces.

 

* * *

* * *

 

    They were sitting in the restaurant for their date a few days later, inhaling their food, when Wade stopped to stare at him. It took a moment for Peter to notice, absorbed as he was with his food. He made a questioning noise, tilting his head to the side as he slurped up his noodles.

    “Not good?” Peter asked, gesturing to Wade’s bowl. He frowned. “You recommended this place! You have to like it!”

    “Why don’t you ask about my scars?” Wade asked.

    Peter blinked. “What do you mean?”

    [We know how you got them.]

    “We do. We probably know the process better than you,” Peter pointed out. He tapped the side of his head. “Science.”

    “I have no doubt,” Wade replied, his tone a little sharp. “I meant, why don’t you ever ask if they hurt?”

    [Oh.]

    “Because we know they do,” Peter said. “Of course they hurt. It doesn’t matter if they’re _healing_ – healing is a painful process.”

    Wade hummed thoughtfully. “You didn’t need to make sure?”

    {I’m _almost_ insulted.}

    “Did you want me to ask?” Peter demanded sharply. “Would it have made the pain go away if I asked, Wade? Would it make things bearable? Or would it just bring your attention to them?”

    Wade nodded to himself, and Peter couldn’t help but feel relieved when Wade smiled at him. “What are you doing after this?”

    “Nothing important. Why?”

    [Um, something very important.]

    “What?”

    {Remember that chat we had with Wolvie?}

    Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh! That was _today_?”

    [We’re meeting him in ten minutes.]

    Peter swore. The morning after the party, Wade had given him a note from Logan that contained his number and a short message saying when he was free. Peter had begged leave of any social interactions and hidden himself away with his laptop. He’d spent two days figuring out _exactly_ where the remains of Weapon X were hiding.

    “Why didn’t you guys remind me?” he demanded, quickly eating the rest of his food. “Sorry, gotta run!” Peter darted to Wade’s side, pressing his lips to Wade’s for a second before pulling back. “Nope, not enough,” he muttered to himself, and kissed Wade again.

    [Oh, I really like that thing he does with his tongue,] White grumbled, not sounding very happy about it.

    Yellow made a strange whimpering noise.

    Peter pulled back, ignoring the glances the two of them were getting. “I gotta go,” he breathed, staring into Wade’s eyes. “Important business.”

    “You mean you have someone to kill,” Wade said, lips already healed from the nip Peter had given them.

    “If I say no, are you going to believe me?”

    “No.”

    [He knows us so well.]

    {This is great!}

    [We’re so fucked.]

    “When we get back, maybe. I don’t really think these good people would appreciate the show.” Peter grinned. “You know me so well. Does it help if I say they really, _really_ deserve to die?”

    Wade’s mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “Strangely enough, yes. Come home safe?”

    Peter snorted. “The Tower is not _home_.”

    {We have to convince him to move out.}

    [We have to find the perfect place first.] White paused. [No, we’re not moving in with him. Fuck.]

    “White’s right,” Peter said, nodding his head. “Find place, _then_ ask.”

    “Peter,” Wade said, fingers tugging on his hair. “Still here, baby boy.”

    “Sorry. I’ll come back. Have you met me?” Peter thrust his hip to the side, planting a hand on it. “I am unstoppable.”

    [Except against old guys, apparently.]

    {When _are_ we going to pay Normy a visit? He must be feeling pretty lonely…}

    “Later. After.”

    Wade muttered something to himself in Spanish. “When will you be back?”

    “Uh,” Peter said. “A week?”

    Wade’s mouth dropped open. “A whole _week_?” he asked incredulously. “Where was my warning?”

    “I forgot! I’ll try and finish up quickly, promise!”

    “A week. An entire fucking week.” Wade blew out a sigh. “Worth it?”

    Peter nodded. “It will be.”

    {Definitely.}

    [Does this count as keeping secrets because I’m pretty sure there was a rule about that.]

    “There was?” Peter cocked his head. “Wade, did we have a rule about keeping secrets?”

    “Yes,” Wade replied immediately.

    {We should have a secret to keep!}

    Peter nodded. “This is the secret I get to keep as payback for the secret you kept,” Peter said. “I’ll tell you. Eventually. When I’m finished, which shouldn’t take too long. You know how I am about killing!”

    Their waitress, a little mousy girl, squeaked and ran away from the table. Peter hadn’t even noticed her standing behind him.

    [I liked the other girl better.]

    “That was a different place,” Peter pointed out. “But I totally agree!”

    {She was so sassy!}

    “Uhuh. And that _attitude_. That girl could definitely go far. We should have left a bigger tip. Helped her with her dreams, or whatever.”

    Wade’s fingers tapped out a rhythm on Peter’s skin, distracting him from the internal conversation. “Weren’t you leaving?” Wade asked when he had Peter’s attention.

    “Right, yes, we were.” Peter nodded quickly. “This is okay? The secret thing?” He hesitated, hovering awkwardly beside the table. “Because I could spill the beans, but I don’t really want to. It’s like a surprise?”

    “The good kind?”

    Peter tilted his head. “There’s a bad kind of surprise?” he asked, puzzled.

    [Waking up with knives sticking into you is a bad surprise.]

    {Also waking up covered in dry come.}

    [And surprise birthday parties.]

    “Okay, yes. I get it. There are bad surprises. As this is not on that list, I’m going with yes.” Peter grinned. “Good surprise.”

    “Then okay,” Wade agreed. “But never again, alright?”

    Peter gave him a cocky salute. “Yes sir!”

 

* * *

* * *

  

    Logan was already waiting at the inconspicuous building when Peter arrived. Peter dropped down beside Logan, but the mutant didn’t even jump.

    {Spoilsport,} Yellow whined.

    “Hey there,” Peter said. “Fancy seeing you here. You come here often?”

    Logan grunted. “Hey yourself. You sure this is the right place.”

    [He’s fucking doubting us already.]

    Peter hummed. “Don’t be so sceptical, Logan. You get in there, there’s going to be four guards with heavier weaponry than should be legal. There’s a panic button hidden behind a potted plant – don’t let them get to it. The receptionist is deadly, I would totally recommend killing her first. I think I know her, but I could be wrong. If she has different coloured eyes, tell her I said hi before you kill her, yeah?”

    “Anything else I should know?”

    {You smell.}

    [You should shave.]

    “They’ll know you on sight. Keep your eyes open – they won’t necessarily care about any civilians in the place. They’ll want to catch you and contain you. Story of your life, right? Can’t be tamed and all that shit. There’s a code for the big, metal door – I’ll get that and let you in.”

    {Don’t forget rules!}

    [Yeah, we spent _ages_ thinking them up.]

    “Ah yes. I have rules – I had to think about them for a while because I don’t think I’ve ever had a partner quite like you. Okay, first rule: Don’t get in my way. Second rule: If I cut someone and they don’t die immediately, don’t worry. They’ll get there.”

    Peter’s mouth filled with venom, and he licked along the blade of his knife, covering the surface with the deadly substance. He grinned at Logan.

    “Rule three: If they’re dying slowly, let them. No stealing my kills. I get more points the longer they stay alive, suffering.” Peter clapped his hands gleefully.

    “Anything else?” Logan asked.

    “Fellas?”

    {Please keep hands and feet inside the moving vehicle.}

    [No flash photography.]

    {Enjoy the ride!}

    “Oh! And no singing. That’s my thing!” Peter nodded. “We’re good. Ladies first?”

    Logan growled wordlessly at him before strolling in through the front doors. Peter was going in a different way – through the roof.

    {Incy wincy spider climbed up the water spout!}

    [Damn, no grenades this time.]

    {Well that just _ruined_ my singing career.}

    Peter’s enhanced hearing caught the sounds of screaming and gunfire from inside, and he dropped into the facility as quietly as he could. Behind a large, thick, safe-like door, Logan was tearing into the guards who were foolish enough to try and stop the short, hot-headed mutant.

    Which left Peter dealing with the first level of evil scientists and their bodyguards.

    “Yoohoo,” he said, waving coyly at two of the wide-eyed scientists. “I’ve heard you boys have been up to some nasty business.” He shook his head, flipping a knife into the air.

    [Naughty.]

    {Let’s see how well you scream for us, yeah?}

    Peter lunged, catching the first scientist by the collar of his lab coat. “First in, best dressed,” he hissed, plunging the venom covered knife into the man’s thigh before tossing him aside. The other scientist was running deeper into the building, fear tripling his heartbeat.

    [I love it when they run.]

    “Makes it so much more fun!” Peter exclaimed gleefully. He flicked his wrist, and his web caught the fleeing scientist around the ankle. An idea occurred to him, and Peter skipped over to the fallen man and wrapped his legs up with his webs. He gave himself a little bit of web and then began to swing the screaming man around, testing the new limits of his strength.

    There was something oddly musical about the sounds of the scientist’s bones shattering as Peter swung him around the room, using the man as a sort of battering ram and destroying all the equipment in the room.

    {We painted it red!}

    Peter dropped the mess of blood and bone and regarded his work. “It’s definitely an improvement,” he said. “I like the soundtrack, too.”

    In the background, the first scientist was still screaming in agony.

    [Where are all the others at?]

    {Wonder how many rooms we’ll get to paint red?!} Yellow squealed in delight.

    [We have to let Logan in, remember?]

    “Oh yeah!” Peter skipped over to the door. “Hey Logan!” he called, because there was little chance the mutant couldn’t hear him. “You found a code for this door on steroids?”

    “That was your job!” Logan yelled back gruffly.

    {Shit.}

    [We could ask Mr Musical?]

    “Gimme a second!” Peter shouted back. He scuttled over to the dying man, who made a pathetic attempt to get up and run away as Peter approached. “Hey now, sshhh,” Peter said gently. “It hurts, right? I’d say I’m sorry for it, but I’m really not.”

    The man, who had quietened at the sound of Peter’s quiet voice, started to scream again.

    “I could take the pain away, Barry,” Peter offered. He pulled out one of his clean knives. “I need the code to the door. You know it, don’t you?” The man nodded, a tiny movement that probably would have been missed by most people. “If you tell me, I’ll make the pain stop,” Peter promised.

    The venom wasn't _that_  bad. Really, the guy was a total pansy. The pain hadn’t even really started just yet – such a small dose shouldn’t really have made someone scream so much so soon.

    [More concentrated?]

    {Like with our strength?}

    Peter shook his head, ignoring the begging at his feet. “I didn’t have venom as Spiderman. I think Charlie here is just really sensitive.”

    “I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you,” the man gasped. “Please, make it stop!”

    “You tell me, and _then_ I make it stop. That’s how this works, Roger,” Peter replied sternly.

    “H-how do I know you’ll keep your word?” he asked, eyes wild.

    The corner of Peter’s mouth kicked up in a smirk. “You don’t. But if you want to suffer… Well, I don’t mind either way. There’ll be plenty more of you further in, right Sebastian? One of them will know, and I can just leave you here.” To demonstrate how much he really didn’t care, Peter stood up and took a few steps away from the man.

    “W-wait! T-the code! I’ll tell you, just please, make it stop!” He was sobbing by the end, desperation turning his voice fast and sharp.

    [We’re waiting, buddy.]

    {We don’t have a cure for our venom? Normy does, but I don’t think we got it.}

    “616-984,” the man said. He was practically crawling towards Peter, his eyes wide and bright with tears. “Please,” he gasped.

    A smile crept across Peter’s face, and he bounded back over to the door. He typed in the code, squealing gleefully when the door slid open. “Hey Logan!” Peter said. “Fancy seeing you here!”

    [You’ve already done that one.]

    “Please!” the man sobbed.

    “Spider?” Logan asked.

    Peter wagged a finger at the mutant. “Uh-uh-uh. Remember the rules, buddy. No interfering. And as for you, Hernandez,” Peter continued, whirling around to face the poor, pitiful man, “well, I never did say I’d stop it straight away, right?”

    The look on his face was priceless. Peter grinned, crouching by his head. “I need the rest of the codes,” he said. “I know the layout of this place, but the codes weren’t as easy to get. What other codes are lurking in that head of yours?” Peter shivered. “I wish it was as simple as splitting your head open to get answers, but alas…”

    [Would make life much easier.]

    {But _boring_!}

    “Won’t you share your secrets with me, Michael?” Peter cooed, pulling out his knife. “And then we can get on with stopping your pain.”

 

* * *

* * *

  

    A few hours later, Peter was spitting curses as he carefully cleaned his knives. Logan paced in front of him, occasionally shooting glances at the screaming people webbed to the ceiling.

    “Did you think it would be this bad?” Logan asked.

    “No,” Peter snarled. “I thought one cell, maybe two…” Peter leapt to his feet, releasing one of his knives with an incomprehensible noise that sounded like a scream. The knife was buried into a map on the wall, glittery red stars marking the location of the remaining Weapon X cells.

    Last time Peter counted, there had been thirty five stars.

    {Fuck me.}

    [That’s a lot of people to kill.]

    {You can’t tell me we won’t enjoy it.}

    Peter stalked over and wrenched the knife from the wall. “This looks like fun,” he said, smile shooting across his face. “This one was an entrée! Looks like we’re getting several full course meals this time.”

    [We telling SHIELD?]

    Peter frowned. “Why would we do that? That sounds like a bad idea…”

    {Huh? But we’re SHIELD bitches now!}

    “Haven’t signed shit yet. Besides, I’m an Avengers bitch before I’m a SHIELD bitch. And we all know Fury will be a little shit about this.”

    [Good point. Unsanctioned mission.]

    { _Boring_! Wolvie going to fuck shit up with us?}

    “Obviously, that’s entirely up to him. He can stay for the main course and skip out on dessert, skip main course and have dessert… You see how fussed I am about this?”

    [Zero fucks given.]

    {Zero fucks received.}

    “Right you are, boys. So, Logan, are you in or out? Because I told Wade I’d be back in a week, and this shit makes it look like it’s going to take me at least five days by myself.”

    [Were we talking a week five or a week seven?]

    {And how did Wade understand it?}

    “Either way, five or seven, that’s cutting it pretty damn close.”

    “I said I’d help, bub. I’ll see this thing through with you.” Logan eyed the room for a moment. “Don’t pity the guys who have to clean up this place.”

    Peter snickered. “By the time they find this place, there won’t be anyone left to clean up.” He fiddled with one of his knives for a moment before flicking it up and into the leg of one of his victims. The woman screamed, and the other webbed up scientists flinched at the sound.

    [Music to our fucking ears.]

    “Oh please, don’t be such a baby,” Peter sneered. “That isn’t pain. Pain is healing, you know? The itch as your skin knits back together, the burn of muscles stretching back over bones, the sharp ache of your bones becoming whole again.” He paused, thoughtful. “Me? I get the pins and needles of hair growing back too, and that gross tugging when my teeth and nails grow back.”

    {We should give them a healing factor,} Yellow hissed, {and then find out just how much they like it.}

    “Do unto others,” Peter muttered.

    [Lovely punishment for some very bad people.}

    {Not to mention, it would be _fun_!}

    “We don’t really have time,” Peter replied, disappointed. He jumped up and wrenched the knife from the woman’s leg. “The boxes want to give you all a healing factor and then test it out,” Peter explained. “Much like you’ve been doing for a _long_ time, now.”

    “Spider,” Logan said tersely.

    “Shut up, I know.”

    [Aw come _on_!]

    {Yeah!}

    “Wade would hardly be impressed,” Peter pointed out.

    {… Good point.}

    [We’re so whipped.]

    Peter made a whip sound. “Wuh-pssh!”

    {Whipped is not a bad thing to be. Especially if you’re being whipped by the good guy in the relationship.}

    Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Right! Wade can try and make us do the good thing, rather than the bad thing.” He made a face. “Try being the operative word.”

    “We going or what?” Logan demanded.

    [Sheesh, impatient much.]

    “Yeah, yeah,” Peter said, dropping from the ceiling. “We’re going. Bye guys!” he called enthusiastically, waving at the people still trapped on the ceiling. “Enjoy your agony!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ima come right out and say that I really don't like this chapter. I don't know why, it was just a bitch to write and I'm seriously not happy with it. But it's all relevant, all needs to be there, and I had fun writing specific parts.
> 
> So please let me know what you think, because I feel like this chapter is sub-par and it's _really_ not a good feeling for me. I'd hate to disappoint you guys.
> 
> ( _Dios_ means God in Spanish.)


	3. Chapter 3

    “I never thought I’d say this,” Peter panted, scuttling up a wall and lunging at the idiot with the machine gun, “but can we take a fucking break?”

    [Seconded!]

    {Look, Wolvie’s still going. We can’t let him beat us!}

    “Good point,” Peter grunted, snapping the man’s neck. “Hey Logan, how’s it going? Feeling the burn?” He gave a tired chuckle. “Heh. It’s more like an ache, isn’t it?”

    “This better be the last one for today,” the mutant growled, his claws dripping a steady stream of blood. He dodged a rather pathetic knife swing from a weedy looking goon and sliced up the weedy goon’s chest, claws through skin like a knife through butter.

    “Oh man, I _know_ ,” Peter groaned, tossing the machine gunners body to the side. “I have aches everywhere, and I think there’s a knife stuck in my back – I should be able to reach it if I just had a moment but damn son, these guys are worse than cockroaches, am I right?”

    [We’re totally the Roach Motel.]

    {Is that even a thing?}

    [It was when Animorphs were around.] White sighed wistfully. [Those books were the best.]

    “Ax was awesome,” Peter said enthusiastically. “We should totally see if Mimic can shapeshift into him!”

    [All my dreams would come true.]

    Peter whirled and sent one of his knives flying into the throat of another guy trying to sneak up on Logan. While he probably wouldn’t have succeeded, Peter thought Logan looked pretty busy with the two _seriously_ beefed up guys he was fighting.

    {I miss Wade,} Yellow announced.

    Peter scowled. “Yes, we all do.”

    [I don’t.]

    Ignoring White, Peter continued. “If you keep telling me we miss him, I’ll seriously consider stopping the blood right now.”

    [What?] White screeched.

    {No, no! We’re having so much fun!}

    “Snapping necks is faster,” Peter pointed out. “We’d still be killing, but no blood.”

    [Jesus, he’s serious.]

    {Okay, okay!}

    Peter cocked an eyebrow, pinning a struggling woman to the ground. “You promise?”

    {I fucking promise!} Yellow said, sounding like a child who’d been told he couldn’t have a lollipop unless he stopped picking his nose.

    “Good,” Peter said, sliding his karambit across the woman’s throat.

    There was a break in the waves of bad guys, so Peter sat on top of the pile of bodies he’d created and watched Logan fight the two steroid monsters.

    It was the fourth day, and this was nest 25. The first day had been their most productive – Logan and Peter had destroyed 6 nests before evening fell, collapsing into a motel at some point as the sun set. The next few days had been a bit harder, because on the second day the individual cells of Weapon X had apparently decided communication was a good idea.

    And so, Peter and Logan had been greeted with small armies of bad guys at each of the nests they’d visited. Which really just meant the body count was getting alarmingly high and they were both scoring a shit tonne of points, but still. Killing so many people _every day_ was getting tiring.

    “Hey buddy!” Peter called. “Need a hand?” He snickered. “Mind out of the gutter, people!”

    Logan grunted. “You’ve been sitting there,” he ducked a swing, “for five minutes,” he kicked at one of the steroid monsters’ legs, “and you only ask _now_?”

    Peter shrugged. “Didn’t want to be rude and steal your kill,” he replied, bouncing to his feet. “I’ll take fugly, yeah?”

    [They’re both fugly.]

    {Actually, the one on the left has a surprisingly nice face. Look at jaw structure!}

    [You have a thing for jaw structure,] White noted.

    {He could have been America’s Next Top Model!}

    “America’s Next Top Murderer?” Peter hummed, and then shook his head. “Nah, that’s me.” He eyed the two steroid monsters before whistling loudly. “Yoohoo! Which one of you two _lovely_ ladies wants to play with me?” he called, striking a pose.

    They ignored him.

    {Fucking rude!}

    [I really like this pose.]

    {Spidey, we gotta kill them now!}

    “On second thought,” Peter snarled, glaring at the two men, “I think I’ll take you both off poor Logan’s hands.”

    “Bub,” Logan started warningly, but apparently the expression on Peter’s face was nasty enough to convince him to shut up. Which was good, because Peter sort of liked the mutant, surly silences and all.

    “Seriously, Logan. Take a break. It’s my turn to play with the Barbies.”

    [What the fuck?]

    {I thought they were steroid monsters?}

    “I may not have the chest,” Peter replied, “but _they_ certainly do.”

    There was a moment of silence before the boxes were snickering. [Fucking _gold_ ,] White said.

    {You’re the best, Spidey!}

    [Let’s play!]

    Peter flicked out a web, expertly tripping up the uglier of the two. He hit his head hard on the concrete, knocking himself out. Peter beckoned to the other one. “C’mon sugar, let’s dance.”

    Less Ugly hesitated for a second before bending over and picking up a rock – no, scratch that – a slab of _fucking_ cement, tossing it casually at Peter. Peter snorted and dodged, insulted.

    “Sweetheart, I’m not _that_ easy,” he purred, scuttling a little closer and grinning at Less Ugly. “We’re _supposed_ to be dancing, so get your over-muscled thighs over here before I get _mad_.” He giggled.

    [I swear the ground is shaking with his steps.]

    {Gives new meaning to break dancing, huh?}

    Peter laughed. “Break dancing! I get it! Do you get it?” he asked Less Ugly, who glared at him before snorting and charging. Peter jumped, hands pushing off Less Ugly’s shoulders as he flipped himself over the muscled maniac.

    Less Ugly looked comically surprised when he couldn’t see Peter in front of him anymore.

    [I guess the saying about muscles and brain size is right,] White said contemplatively.

    “For this one at least,” Peter agreed. “Yoohoo!” he called, waving his hands in the air. “Over here, gorgeous! But honestly, those shoes with that dress?”

    Less Ugly drew a gun.

    {Red card!}

    Peter darted forward, knives a blur of silver, and Less Ugly stared dumbly at the stump that was his arm. “Guns are against the rules,” Peter hissed, dancing backwards over the rubble. “Oh, looks like Ugly is waking up. Hold the phone for two seconds, sugar, I have to take out the trash.”

    “Do you ever run out of things to say?” Logan demanded.

    {Only when we’re on the verge of orgasm!} Yellow crowed.

    “And even then, we’re not exactly quiet,” Peter said, wrenching Ugly’s head to the side. He checked to see where Less Ugly was, and then sank his fangs into Ugly’s throat.

    [I thought we didn’t need to eat?]

    {We’re not, we’re killing.}

    Peter pulled back when Ugly began to jerk, foaming at the mouth. “The difference between eating and killing,” Peter said, “is that killing leaves a _much_ better taste in my mouth. Oh, look at him squirm!”

    His spider sense screamed a warning, and Peter ducked away from Less Ugly’s grabby hand, laughing gleefully. Less Ugly hardly looked at Ugly, but Peter noticed with a sudden pout that he had crushed Ugly’s head beneath his foot.

    “Hey fucktard, don’t go ruining my points,” Peter snarled. “That’s just fucking rude!”

    {I wanna stab a bitch!}

    [We’re going to stab a bitch.]

    “Rude ass bitch,” Peter said, flicking the excess blood from his karambits. “I’m going to turn you into mincemeat. How many burgers do you think we could make out of you? Or we could use you as taco filling… D’you reckon Wade would notice?”

    [Meat’s meat, right?]

    {But we don’t want to feed Wade second rate meat.}

    Peter grinned at Less Ugly as the two began to circle each other. “Yellow says you’d be second rate meat. I don’t know if I agree – you look like you have some nice cuts on you…”

    [This is not a Hannigram fic, please stop.]

    “We enjoy people better as soup anyway,” Peter muttered. “Well. We didn’t _enjoy_ it. Half-digested messes were disgusting, but totally necessary. Did I mention that people taste bad? At least,” he continued, darting forward to land a solid kick on the side of Less Ugly’s face, “they do when you don’t have time to _prepare_ the meat.”

    “Shut up,” grunted Less Ugly.

    {It speaks!}

    “Wow, I was starting to wonder if you had the necessary brain cells required for speech!” Peter exclaimed. “It’d be awkward if I was just talking to _myself_!”

    [That’s hilarious. We spend 90% of our time talking to ourselves, you know.]

    “That’s the joke! The other ten percent is mostly curses and threats, and some moans. Because you know, I have a _lovely_ boyfriend who knows all the right buttons to press…” He winked at Less Ugly.

    “Fucking fag,” Less Ugly spat.

    “Woah hey, hey! Language! Swearing is reserved for moments of extreme pain or extreme pleasure. Unless it’s me talking. The rules don’t apply to me. ‘The only exception’… Besides, you were totally getting screwed by Ugly,” Peter said, dodging the giant’s fist. “How do I know this? The signs of abuse are clear, darling, and you were _way_ too calm about _crushing his fucking head with your foot_.”

    [They could have just hated each other?]

    “That’s not simple hatred – that’s _loathing_ ,” Peter corrected, only barely managing to dodge the next punch. “Stop distracting me!”

    {I really wanna see this guy in a tutu!}

    Peter froze, head snapping to the left. “ _What_?” he demanded.

    The next thing, he was thrown shoulder first into a brick wall. The imprint of Less Ugly’s remaining hand would leave a mark, but that was less concerning than the obvious broken ribs and the dull pain in the shoulder that had led the charge at the wall.

    {Ow!}

    [Couldn’t have said it better myself.]

    “I’m going to fucking kill you both,” Peter snarled, staggering to his feet with a groan. “That was entirely your fault, Yellow. I mean, a tutu? What even?”

    {Just picture him trying to hit us in a tutu.}

    Peter shrugged and glared at Less Ugly. “Give me two seconds – and Yellow, this better be the most amusing thing I’ve ever seen or else.”

    Imagination was a wonderful thing, and Peter was almost entirely sure that being insane helped him with his. Peter glared at Less Ugly until the dark suit he was wearing faded away and turned into a bright pink tutu, complete with sparkling fairy wings and tights. Peter swallowed a snicker.

    “Okay, let’s dance,” he said, grinning when Less Ugly moved and the imagined ensemble moved with him.

    Yellow was howling with laughter in his head, unable to form a coherent sentence. White wasn’t much better, although he was trying to control himself, gasping into calmness before abruptly breaking into giggles again.

    “Wow, you really know how to pick them, Yellow,” Peter remarked, ignoring his injuries with practiced ease as he exchanged blows with Less Ugly. “And you,” Peter said, “look surprisingly good in a tutu. I mean, shaving your legs would probably help the situation, but you looked _weird_ with shaved legs so I just kept the hair. The wings are a bit gaudy, but they totally suit the general ridiculousness of this…”

    {Wolvie!} Yellow gasped.

    Peter jumped up to stick onto the wall. He gave Less Ugly a grin and the bird. “What about him?” Peter asked.

    {In a tutu!}

    White lost it completely. Peter choked on air, laughter bubbling up and spilling over, leaving his mouth rather loudly. Less Ugly looked completely done with him, and Peter was too busy laughing to try and escape the grip on his ankle.

    “Two seconds!” he managed to say, but Less Ugly ignored him and threw Peter to the ground. Peter couldn’t laugh then, mainly because he couldn’t _breathe_. But the smile on his face didn’t fade and as soon as he got his breath back he was going to start laughing again.

    The tips of Logan’s claws suddenly appeared in Less Ugly’s chest. The steroid monster looked down, a comically surprised look on his face, before Logan pulled his claws out and shoved him away.

    “You alright, bub?” Logan asked, and was that hint of worry in the mutant’s voice Peter heard.

    {Nah!}

    [No way.]

    “Tutus,” Peter croaked, pushing himself up from the concrete. “Fucking tutus.”

    “…What?”

    Peter grumbled and checked himself over. “Ribs, shoulder, back, hand, ouch the _fingers_!”

    “Peter,” Logan growled. “Are you going to die on me?”

    [Not planning on it.]

    “Hey, do I still have a knife in my back?” Peter inquired, trying to peer over his shoulder. “You should have been around for the _last_ time I had a knife in my back. Interestingly enough, I still don’t know who put it there, but I’m sure that they’ll come after me again, since the first time didn’t work.”

    {What if he was working for Osborn?}

    “That’s… A really good point. But I want to find out who did it!” Peter pouted.

    “No knife,” Logan replied.

    [Must have fallen out.]

    “I think we should be thankful that we didn’t have it in our back when Less Ugly threw me to the ground,” Peter said. “Because that would have been _nasty_. Hell, I might have _died_ from that.” He held up his left hand and gave it a shake. “I hate broken fingers,” he complained. “You have any splints, Wolvie? Even an ice cream stick would do… Tomorrow they’ll be less broken…”

    [But not fully healed.]

    “No,” Peter agreed.

    [We still have ten nests to go, not counting this one.]

    “I know,” Peter said sharply.

    [And only the rest of today and tomorrow before we’ve been gone longer than a five-day week.]

    “Jesus fucking Christ, White, _I know_! If we have splints, I can still fight. I _do_ know my own limits.” Peter glanced at Logan. “Splints?” he repeated. Logan responded with a head shake, and Peter blew out a sigh. “Damn.”

    {Ice cream!}

    “Looks like,” Peter agreed. “You want an ice cream, Logan? Maybe two? Wait, do you have any cash? Because otherwise I’m totally going to have to steal four ice creams.”

    Logan sighed and handed him some money.

 

* * *

* * *

  

    Half an hour later, Peter’s fingers were splinted and he was ready to go. Pleasantly buzzed from the sugar rush of eating four ice creams, he bounced back to the Weapon X building, humming a tuneless song to himself and kicking bodies out of his way. He trotted deeper into the labs, following Logan’s trail of unconscious people – Peter had noticed the mutant only killed when he had to.

    His spider sense was tingling. Peter paused, entire body going still as he took stock of his surroundings. Pinpointing whatever had made his spider sense sound the alarm was hard, especially when the alarm was this quiet.

    [Logan should have heard us coming.]

    {Weapon X has Wolvie?}

    “You think he’d be smart enough to _not_ get himself captured,” Peter muttered.

    [Ceiling?]

    Peter hummed a noise of agreement and leapt silently up onto the ceiling. He continued to follow what he hoped was Logan’s trail of bodies, because if it wasn’t his, things could get real awkward real fast.

    [What’s the plan of attack, gov?]

    _Be spontaneous,_ Peter replied mentally.

    {We don’t do plans, White!}

    _Plans are boring. We’ve never liked boring._

    [Spontaneous could get us killed.]

    Peter considered that for a moment. _Nah!_

    White sighed. [We’re going to die.]

    {Pessimist!}

    Peter slipped into another room and stopped, because there was Logan. Slowly healing from the head wound and the broken arm and… Well, there were plenty of injuries. Strangely enough, the room didn’t _smell_ like there’d been a fight. Peter couldn’t even smell any blood. He frowned, spider sense sending a warning down his spine.

    {Wolvie!}

    [What the hell happened to him?]

    “I know, right? I thought he was some awesome foursome X-Man,” Peter muttered. “Wolverine my ass. More like Puppy McFluff.”

    Peter didn’t drop from the ceiling, because he could see at least three people frantically moving in the next room, and it all looked rather exciting.

    {Let’s go have a sticky beak!}

    [We’re going to die.]

    “Pessimist,” Peter whispered, moving closer to the next room. He dropped down, hanging from his webs, to watch them scurry about on the ceiling.

    [Idiot, they’re on the floor.]

    {You think you’d be better at this upside down stuff, huh?}

    Peter grinned. “I’m out of practice,” he replied quietly. “What are they doing?”

    {Maybe we should ask?}

    [Maybe we should wait for Logan to wake up.]

    Peter clambered back up to the ceiling, glaring at Logan’s body. “Do hurry up,” he muttered. “We’re all waiting on you.”

    It took a few minutes, but eventually Logan’s eyes opened and he blinked. Peter waved at him from the ceiling, indicating the people in the next room with a jerk of his head. Logan rolled carefully to his feet, glaring into the next room with an intensity that surprised Peter. Maybe the guy who’d beat him up was in there?

    [Please type the correct answer.]

    He was tired and just want to go home?

    [Please type the correct answer.]

    …That wasn’t Logan.

    {Ding ding ding! Give the man a prize!}

    Peter muttered a curse. “I hate shapeshifters,” he said, loud enough for the not-Logan on the ground to hear him. He stiffened, slowly turning his glare to Peter. “You’re all like, “bitch I wanna be a new person” and then bam! You’re someone else. Talk about unfair! Other people have to put effort into it! So rude.”

    [That’s really the issue you have with this?]

    “It’s a valid issue!” Peter exclaimed. “I mean, identity theft is one thing, but what about all those poor little teenage people who are like “I wanna be something else” and they’re trying so hard and these bastards are all like “New skin, new me!” And oh.” Peter made a panicked noise. “Guys, the swirl is talking, the _swirl is talking_!”

    {Abort mission!}

    [We’re not saving Logan now?]

    {Kill the not-Logan!}

    “Regain control from the swirl!” With a battle cry, Peter jumped from the ceiling, catching not-Logan in the face with his pelvis. They both fell to the ground, not-Logan clawing desperately at Peter while Peter merrily punched not-Logan in the head.

    The people in the next room, having heard Peter’s cry – [Well done, moron!] – rushed to help not-Logan. They had guns, and Peter did _not_ like guns.

    “Alrighty, boys and girls,” he called cheerfully from the ceiling. “You can either drop the guns now and tell me where my dear friend Logan is, or we can have at it and you’ll all die.”

    “You’re the one who will die,” not-Logan snarled. And damn, Peter wished he’d talked sooner, because that was _definitely_ not Logan’s voice.

    {But we already knew it wasn’t Logan!}

    [Would have made things move so much faster.]

    “Oh man, have you _seen_ what Logan and I did to your other little nests?” Peter asked. “I have pictures if you didn’t, but I can show them to you later, when we’re all finished up here. But if you have, well, can I just say that that was some of my worst work. Really. I was tired – killing so many people _every day_ was exhausting, you have no idea – and my aim was to kill as quickly as possible. But here, now? I can afford to get _creative_.”

    The only man in the group dropped his gun, fear rolling off him in waves. Peter scuttled across the ceiling and dropped on him, taking advantage of the surprised stillness in the room to hiss in the man’s ear.

    “Where is he?”

    “D-down the hall!” the man replied quickly, shaking. “B-back the way you came.”

    Peter leapt back up to the ceiling to avoid the spray of bullets. He shot a web out, catching the gun-less man in the chest and hauling him up to the ceiling. He quickly webbed the man up, indignation thrumming through his veins.

    {Fucker lied to us!}

    [Well. He _tried_.]

    “One thing I should have mentioned,” Peter said loudly, face impassive as he eyed the terrified man, “is that I _hate_ liars. Because you _lied_ to me, you’re dying _last_.”

    He dropped back to the floor and attacked the remaining three. The shapeshifter was the hardest one to take down, and he managed to get some lucky shots in. Peter was at a disadvantage anyway, what with the broken ribs and fingers, but when the dust settled and all was said and done, Peter was standing over three broken bodies (but only one of them was dead, and it was the stupid shapeshifter).

    “Transformers,” Peter sang, kicking viciously at the shapeshifter’s body. “Corpses in disguise.”

    [We are so fucking bad ass.]

    {We didn’t even need to bite them!}

    “This is what we call opening up a can of whoop ass,” Peter said cheerfully, peering up at the terrified man. He’d pissed himself. Lovely. “Now. Where is Logan?”

 

* * *

* * *

  

    Logan turned out to be in a very nasty looking contraption. Peter wandered past it, stabbing a knife through the clear glass and hardly paying attention as Logan started to breath normally again. Peter paused in front of the computer, fingers dancing across the keys. Behind him, Logan forced himself out of the contraption.

    [For the benefit of the readers out there, it’s the contraption from Deadpool.]

    “The air one,” Peter added absently, before whistling lowly. “Woah.”

    Logan came up behind him. “What is it, bub?”

    Peter gestured to the screen. “This,” he replied simply.

    {This is _nasty_.}

    “I knew it was bad,” Peter continued in a low voice, “but this? This is just _sick_. No one deserves this… Except the people who thought of it in the first place.”

    [They did this to Wade.]

    “…I should have killed them slower,” Peter hissed.

    {We still have the liar. And those other two.}

    Peter relaxed, nodding to himself. “Right. We still have them.”

    [We should put the liar in the air thing,] White suggested darkly. [While we make sure we killed everyone else.]

    {It has a hole in it,} Yellow pointed out.

    [I’m sure they’ll have spares.]

    Peter hummed, still reading through the files. There was something deeply unsettling about reading through the meticulous observations, despite the fact that he’d done similar things before. This had been done to _Wade_ , and Peter felt the urge to break every single bone in the women’s bodies, just to listen to them _scream_.

    “Bub,” Logan said, catching Peter’s attention. “There’s a couple of people still alive.”

    “If you’re referring to the three in the next room,” Peter replied calmly, “you needn’t worry. We have _plans_ for them.”

    Logan snorted. “That doesn’t sound very pleasant.”

    [It won’t be. For them.]

    “But _I’ll_ feel better,” Peter muttered. “And a happy Spider is a less-stabby Spider. I’ve already painted a room red, and as beautiful as that was, the moment’s gone. _Poof_. But ten more nests…”

    {We could go with guns for this one?}

    “I _hate_ guns.”

    [We have that rocket launcher.]

    “ _Oh_ , there’s an idea! It’s been an _age_ since I’ve had the opportunity to use that.”

    {But first…}

    Peter pulled out a tiny hard drive (that he stole from Stark) and plugs it into the computer. The files immediately started downloading, and a little timer popped up in the right hand corner of the screen.

    “What are you going to do with that?” Logan asked suspiciously.

    Peter paused. “Should I give it to SHIELD?” he asked, frowning.

    [No.]

    {That’s asking for it.}

    “Okay, I’m not giving it to SHIELD. But I _am_ keeping it. There could be answers in here.”

    “Answers to what?” Logan still sounded suspicious, but Peter counted it as a win that the mutant’s claws were sheathed.

    “Answers to some very important questions I’ll no doubt think of later. But for now,” he clapped his hands, “I need your help.”

    “With?”

    “That thing you were in? I need another one. We’re going to put Mr Liar in that one, and then we’re going to wake up Tweedledee and Tweedledum and show them the _exact_ meaning of ‘it hurts so much I could die’. Right boys?”

    [{Right!}] the boxes agreed.

    Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to torture them, bub?”

    [Okay, no. I don’t like that tone.]

    “It’s like he’s talking to a child,” Peter agreed, glaring balefully at the mutant.

    {Technically…}

    “Technically, I’m fucking 18,” Peter snarled. “I’m not a child anymore – I haven’t been a child for a _very_ long time. So if we’re all done being judgemental assholes, let’s get on with it. We have ten more nests to clean up before light out, and I have a rocket launcher to get out of storage.” He folded his arms and stared at Logan.

    The mutant huffed, shaking his head. “Ten nests before lights out?” he replied. “Let’s do it.”

    Peter’s hostility melted away in the blink of an eye and he grinned at Logan. “See, I knew I liked you for a reason!”

    [Even if you _do_ smell. Badly. Seriously, do you ever shower?]

    {And it’s definitely not because you look great in a tutu!}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Sorry this took me so long, got distracted with other projects!
> 
> I have no idea what happened with the tutu. Please don't ask. I have no answers. Tutus. What the frick-frack?
> 
> I have four favourite moments in this chapter. 1: Roach Motel because Animorphs, man. I loved that shit. 2: Regain control from the swirl because funny, that's why. 3: Opening up a can of whoop ass because I love saying that. 4: Transformers. Corpses in disguise. I don't even need to explain that one, honestly.
> 
> Comment on your fav bit, and your general reaction to the chapter of course ;)


	4. Chapter 4

    “ _Boom_.”

    Peter lost hearing in one ear immediately after firing, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care. The glee he felt in pulling the trigger and unleashing so much chaos… It was made infinitely better by the fact that everyone inside the burning building _deserved_ to die.

    Plus, his ear would heal.

    [Look at the _fire_!]

    {Listen to the screams! Although the flames look cool as hell.}

    Peter snorted, balancing the rocket launcher on his shoulder with practised ease. “You two pyromaniacs now?”

    [Nah.]

    {But explosions, Spidey!}

    “Boom,” Peter repeated with a grin, gesturing wildly with his free hand. He glanced at Logan, who’d covered his ears pre-emptively and was now shaking his head. Peter had no doubt his eardrums were, at the very least, ringing. “Do you want to do the honours?” he asked, gesturing to the building.

    Logan snorted. “You mean the leg work, bub,” he replied, but his claws were already sliding out from under his skin with a wet sound.

    “Chin up! Only eight more after this one, and then we can all go home and sleep for a month,” Peter said cheerfully. “I’ll get the ones you miss,” he added.

    “With that?” Logan asked, gesturing to the rocket launcher.

    [Dude, ever heard of overkill?]

    {Even though it would be cool, that’s just excessive!}

    “The boxes are right. This is overkill.” Peter grinned and placed the rocket launcher carefully on the ground. He picked up a crossbow and waved it at Logan. “I found this too!”

    {Target practice!}

    [Don’t tell anyone, but I’m pretty sure we’re awesome with this thing.]

    {Not to mention bad ass!}

    [We’re always bad ass.]

    “Smart ass too,” Peter muttered. Logan had already bounded off, leaving him alone with the boxes and his new toys. “How many do you think he’ll let slip through those super shiny claws of his?”

    […Will he let any slip through?]

    {Course! He’s not an asshole.}

    “I like him so he must be an asshole,” Peter replied easily, studying the crossbow.

    [Spidey makes an _excellent_ point.]

    {We liked Mal. He wasn’t an asshole.}

    “I’m sure if we gave him a chance, he would be a _ginormous_ asshole,” Peter said. “Like, so big you could fit ten dicks inside.”

    [One – _gross_. Two – _no_. Three – _why_?]

    Peter hummed, loading his crossbow. “You never know with people,” he said with a shrug, letting the stock rest against his shoulder as he aimed. “They just keep on surprising…”

    {Bang!} Yellow exclaimed as Peter pulled the trigger. The bolt buried itself in a fleeing Weapon X minion’s head, and Peter hissed out a sound of satisfaction before quickly loading up his crossbow again. He was a little out of practice – maybe it would be a good idea to take some time off when he got back to the Tower…

    [No bang. Honestly, it makes a sound closer to our webs.]

    “And that’s hella exciting!” Peter said, watching another luckless schmuck come stumbling out of the burning building. “You know what’s fun? Whack a mole,” he continued, lining up his next shot. “I mean, with my reflexes I am the _master_ , but it’s still fun.”

    [This is kind of like that.]

    {Only the moles are people, and people are red on the inside!}

    Peter pulled the trigger, forlornly thinking he probably should have brought more bolts as his target went down like a sack of potatoes.

    {Why not a sack of bricks?}

    [We could be accurate and say a bag of bones?]

    “Bag of guts, too,” Peter added. “Brain matter. Faecal matter. _Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell_!” he screeched, loading the crossbow again.

    {Look – _two_ bags of blood!}

    [That sounds very vampire-ish,] White said.

    “Hey, no Twilight shit, you dig?”

    {Hit me baby one more time!}

    [Ready, aim… FIRE!]

    “I came in like a wrecking ball!”

    {No!}

    [C’mon, Spidey. We’re classier than Miley!]

    “All you ever did was, wre-e-eck me,” Peter continued, firing off another bolt.

    {What about the one about a fly on the wall?}

    “We _eat_ flies,” Peter said, loading up the crossbow again. “Not _literally_ , of course, because that shit is nasty and the wings get stuck in my teeth… Heads up!” he called, and the minion fleeing from the burning building looked straight at him just as Peter fired the crossbow. The bolt buried itself right between the poor bastard’s eyes.

    [What a shot!]

    {10/10 for execution!}

    Peter bowed. “Thank you, thank you! I’m here every day except Thursday!”

    [I think today is a Thursday?]

    “Huh. Well, whatever. _Logan_! Buddy!”

    The mutant huffed as he walked towards him. “We’re good,” he said, turning to glare at the burning building. “I got most of them. They had another computer, but I turned it into scrap metal. Sorry, bub.”

    [He’s not.]

    {Liiiiiar!}

    Peter took a breath. “Logan,” he said pleasantly, “firstly, I have so much information from that other nest that I’m going to be busy for _weeks_ trying to figure it all out. Secondly, I don’t _want_ any more information, because I imagine whatever I read will give me ideas for _years_. And thirdly, lastly, most importantly – _don’t fucking lie to me, Wolverine_.”

    Peter’s voice turned harsh and cold, tone biting as he poked Logan in the chest with one of his crossbow bolts, hard enough to draw blood. The mutant shifted back, uneasiness flashing across his face. Maybe he was remembering what Peter had done to the last person who’d lied to him.

    {How long do you think before he gets found?} Yellow asked.

    [Awhile. We buried him pretty good.]

    “Just the thought of him suffering for _days_ …” Peter shivered with delight. “Fucking deserves it, the little shit. Hey, if we finish up and he’s still there, we can take him back with us! Take care of the poor baby.”

    [I got chills.]

    {We’re so _mean_!}

    Peter cocked his head at Logan. “No lying,” he repeated sternly, in a voice that was reminiscent of a person telling a dog to ‘leave’. “I may not have your hearing, _bub_ , but that doesn’t mean I can’t hear your heartbeat pick up when you lie. It doesn’t mean that I can’t _see_ your body react, alright? Don’t do it.”

    “Wade lied to you,” Logan pointed out.

    “And at one point, I was going to use him as a test subject,” Peter spat back, ignoring the sudden stiffening of the mutant’s body. “Wade is different. He gets another chance – even if a third of me isn’t happy about it.”

    “A third? That’s… Oddly specific.”

    [We have eight more nests to go,] White said sharply.

    Peter nodded. “Eight more nests,” Peter reminded Logan, bending over to pick up the rocket launcher. “Let’s get going, partner.”

    Logan grunted and followed Peter as he walked away from the burning building, the distant sound of sirens filling the air.

 

* * *

* * *

 

    “I’ve got my life drawn out in front of me like roads drawn on a map,” Peter sang as he stumbled through the Tower. “I’ve had so many times where I slipped off the beaten path.”

    {Wade…} Yellow whimpered.

    [Tired,] White said.

    “I gotta remind myself that my mind is strong so I won’t lose my head.”

    [Too late.]

    “I’ve got my demons that I fight with, every little thought and every breath.”

    {Weeee!} Yellow squealed, sounding positively delirious.

    Peter continued on, humming under his breath. The rocket launcher and crossbow he’d put back in his secret stockpile, a little upset to be parted with them so soon after using them. But he wasn’t about to bring them to the Tower, well aware that Stark would probably confiscate them.

    Besides, it was a good idea to keep his cards close to his chest.

    He was much too tired to pay attention to where he was going – he was mostly following his sense of smell, zeroing on Wade’s distinctive scent and sort of hoping for the best. But eventually, he realized he was just moving in circles and came to a stop in the kitchen, glaring at nothing.

    {Where is he?}

    [We’re not even that late.]

    “Maybe he’s on hero business,” Peter murmured grumpily. “Maybe they found Loki.”

    {No! Come back!}

    Peter blinked and sighed. “Couch,” he said. “Looks comfy.”

    [Not a bed?]

    Peter waved a hand. “Too much effort to ask Jarvis,” he replied, moving into the lounge area. He collapsed onto the couch. He was asleep in moments.

 

* * *

* * *

 

  
    Shoulder. Pressure. Danger.

    Peter was on the ceiling before he even registered the fact he was awake.

    [Dude, what the fuck?]

    {We were having good dreams!}

    Peter blinked and shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands. “S’not my fault,” he grumbled, the sentence ending in a yawn.

    {Snot!} Yellow giggled.

    Peter experimentally moved his fingers. “Hey-o,” he said sleepily. “What do you know? They’re mostly healed.”

    [Why’d we wake up on the ceiling?]

    “We’re on the ceiling,” Peter said, confused. “I didn’t go to sleep on the ceiling.”

    {Nah, couch.}

    [You’re so fucking _slow_ in the morning.]

    Peter grumbled wordlessly. “Mornings are only worth being awake for if we throw grenades at those stupid fucking _idiots_ who get up at sparrow fart to _exercise_ ,” he replied. Stretching out his limbs, he dropped gracefully to the floor, arching his back and hissing when the movement sent a twinge of pain through him.

    [Not healed.]

    “Thank you for stating the obvious. Breakfast!” Peter said brightly, lunging for the plate of pancakes before pulling up short, mind abruptly realizing pancakes generally didn’t appear from nowhere.

    {Wait a minute!}

    Peter jerked his head up and stared around the room. Banner offered him a smile, but the other Avengers (minus Wade and Barton and Widow) mostly just stared at him wordlessly.

    {...Awkward…}

    [They made us breakfast?]

    {How nice! Ohmygod maybe they _do_ like us!}

    [You’re an idiot.]

    “Shut up,” Peter said.

    [Wait are we dreaming?]

    {Only one way to find out!}

    Peter hummed in agreement and pulled out one of his knives. The Avengers tensed, but Peter ignored them. Still humming, he pressed his hand against the table.

    And then he stabbed himself.

    [Okay, not dreaming.]

    {The pancakes!} Yellow wailed. Peter glanced to the left and made a sound of distress – some of his blood had splattered onto them.

    Peter was abruptly aware of someone approaching him from behind. Without a thought, he flipped backwards, over the person approaching him, and landed in an offensive crouch, knife held in his not bleeding hand.

    Widow turned slowly, her hands purposely held away from her weapons. But that didn’t exactly reassure Peter – she could easily reach them in a second.

    [Attacking?]

    {I don’t know, she seems pretty not-attacking to me.}

    [But _you’re_ an idiot.]

    {She just came at us from behind.}

    [And that in itself is an attack.]

    Peter hummed. “I think I did pretty well not to cut off her hand,” he said cheerfully.

    [Should have done it.]

    {I mean, you should do it anyway. Not necessarily for this.}

    [Just because she’s generally a bitch?]

    “Just because we really want to see her in pain?” Peter offered.

    {Oh, she’d look _pretty_!}

    Peter started to nod, but then abruptly shook his head. “Wait, we’re basically on the same side now.”

    [We haven’t signed anything.]

    {Does that mean we have to put up with her and Stark, because if so, I vote no.}

    “We already voted yes,” Peter said.

    {La-la-la, can’t _hear you_!}

    Peter snorted. “What are you, five? That shit doesn’t work when you’re in my head.”

    [Anyway. Pancakes. Avengers. What?]

    “Yeah!” Peter exclaimed, leaping to his feet and sliding his knife away in the same movement. He’d clean it later. “Avengers, morning! But what’s with the pancakes? And why in the hell did I wake up on the ceiling? I mean, that shit is bad for my neck.”

    “I apologize,” Rogers said. “I tried to wake you up.”

    Peter made a noise of understanding. “Ho boy, _you’re_ lucky I didn’t go straight for my knives instead of just jumping.” He shook his head. “Don’t go shaking us awake, we react badly. Generally.”

    “We get that now,” Stark grumbled. “A bit of a warning would have been nice.”

    “Funny,” Peter replied dryly, “I could say the same thing.”

    The tension mounted until Banner cleared his throat, instantly catching Peter’s attention. “Should I have a look at that?” he asked, gesturing to Peter’s hand.

    {Oh yeah, we stabbed ourselves.}

    [Good going, moron. You know there are other ways to see if you’re dreaming, right?]

    “Shut up, of course I do,” Peter snapped. “You can’t read in dreams, and if you count too many fingers, you’re dreaming. But that required _effort_.”

    [So you stabbed yourself. Great fucking job.]

    “Let’s be real, I could have done it somewhere more fatal,” Peter pointed out. He returned his attention to Banner. “I’ll be fine,” he said, waving his uninjured hand.

    {Can we ask them where Wade is now?}

    “Right, right. Where’s Wade at?”

    “He and Clint received a mission from Fury yesterday. They’re due back tomorrow,” Widow supplied. “We weren’t expecting to see you here. You’ve been… Suspiciously absent.”

    [Is there another way we can be absent?]

    {Eagerly absent? Unsurprisingly absent? Happily absent? Thankfully absent?}

    “Those are all very good substitutes,” Peter said, “but I was thinking maybe something more along the lines of _deviously_ absent. Sounds more like me, you know?”

    [Actually, yeah.]

    {Agreed!}

    Peter grinned, absently licking away at the blood still seeping from his hand. “Thank you. I had things to do. Besides, I haven’t signed anything yet. All you’ve got from me is a verbal agreement that I _would_ join, not that I _have_ joined.”

    {I want Wade!}

    “Which part of ‘due back tomorrow’ did you have trouble with?” Peter snapped.

    {The ‘tomorrow’ bit…}

    [Um, question. What are we going to do today?]

    “I hadn’t exactly planned out anything, why?”

    [Because I do _not_ want to stay in the company of the Avengers all day.]

    “Fair point.” Peter wriggled his fingers, the movement making the hole in his hand bleed sluggishly. “Listen, no offense – you can take offense, I don’t actually care – but I am decidedly unimpressed with the idea of hanging out here with you _wonderful_ human beings,” here he shot Banner a quick, uncertain glance, “and would therefore like to request permission to leave?”

    “No,” Rogers said, voice firm. “We have orders to stay in the Tower – Thor will be arriving shortly.”

    [Which part of we haven’t joined your boy band didn’t sink in?]

    {And how long, exactly, is 'shortly'?}

    “I take it you guys haven’t found Loki then,” Peter said, moving passed Widow to flop back onto the couch. Stark made a strangled noise. “You guys _suck_ at finding things.”

    Banner sighed when the other assembled Avengers frowned at him. “Loki is a God,” he pointed out patiently. “Specifically, the God of Mischief.”

    “Plus,” Stark said, “he has _magic_. That puts us mere mortals at a severe disadvantage.”

    “Couldn’t you make something that tracks magic?” Peter asked. “I mean, magic _is_ energy, right? I thought you, of all people, would be able to make that connection.”

    The resulting silence was charged. Stark glared at Peter while Peter smiled innocently back at him, the boxes egging him on in the background. For a moment, something flashed over Stark’s face – regret. Guilt.

    But over what?

    “I think I’d prefer to be the God of Chaos,” Peter said thoughtfully, breaking the silence. It wasn’t his concern if Stark felt guilty – as long as he eventually found out the reason. And he had no doubt he would; after all, Stark couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

    [Sure it shouldn’t be God of Bad Decisions?]

    {The God of Blowjobs!}

    “White, that was rude,” Mimic snapped, stepping into the room. “Welcome back, Spidey.”

    “Mimic!” Peter squealed, jumping to his feet and skipping over to her. “I haven’t seen you in _ages_! What’s been happening? The big old Avengers playing nice? Because if they aren’t, I promise I’ll punish them properly!”

    [We talking spanking punishment or hurting punishment?]

    “Depends which one they deserve,” Peter replied after a pause.

    {Wait, what did you think of mine?} Yellow whined.

    [She thought it was worse than mine.]

    {No way!}

    [Completely.]

    {Stop lying!}

    [Not even shitting you, I swear.]

    {You can’t even read minds!}

    Mimic rolled her eyes. “Seriously, how do you put up with them?” she asked Peter. “They’re worse than siblings.”

    “I don’t,” Peter replied with a maniac grin, tapping the side of his head pointedly. “Insane, remember?”

    She cocked an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, Spidey. How’d your hunting go?”

    [That’s two questions she hasn’t answered!]

    {We should make rules with her too.}

    Peter shook his head when Mimic laughed. “No, too many rules already. I’ve forgotten half of them!”

    “Liar,” Mimic said softly. “Yellow,” she continued, voice at a normal volume, “I think I can’t judge yours because I can’t really empathise with it.”

    {Hmm, good point. You don’t have a dick.}

    “Last time I checked, no,” Mimic confirmed, fighting a smirk.

    {How long ago did you check? Because you never know, something might have grown by now!}

    Peter snorted. “Dicks don’t just _appear_.”

    [Unless you happen to be in the Tower,] White muttered.

    Mimic and Peter both choked on their laughter. “Jesus, White,” Peter gasped, “warning!”

    “I thought Yellow was supposed to be the funny one!”

    {Hey! I am!}

    [It’s true. If you turn around, you’ll see at least one ginormous dick.]

    Peter and Mimic turned, their eyes automatically landing on Stark. He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

    “Yes,” Mimic confirmed.

    “Definitely,” Peter agreed. “Still one question you haven’t answered.”

    Mimic blinked, before realization flashed across her face. “The Avengers have treated me fine,” she replied. “No need for spanking or hurting.”

    {Damn,} Yellow muttered sulkily.

    [Can we do it anyway?]

    “No,” Mimic said.

    “Yes!” Peter cheered at the same time.

    The two of them stared at each other wordlessly for a moment.

    “They’re _my_ boxes,” Peter said, his voice lowering dangerously. He hadn’t forgotten the part Mimic had played in Wade’s betrayal, and he _certainly_ hasn’t completely forgiven her. She’d crossed a line, and from the look on her face, she knew it.

    She held up her hands. “Never said they weren’t.”

    {Awwww, he _loves_ us!}

    [That’s so sickeningly sweet.]

    Yellow made kissy noises, and Peter actually physically recoiled, disgust curling through him. There was something dark in the way the boxes were talking, something that warned him they weren’t joking anymore.

    [Don’t be like that, Spidey,] White practically purred. [No need to be shy.]

    Peter made a strangled noise. “I take it back,” he said, panicked. “You can have them.”

    {We are _never_ letting you live this one down.}

    [I _love_ it when you get all possessive.]

    “No, no, no!” Peter whirled, hands tugging at his hair. “Shut up, I didn’t mean it like that! You fucking know I didn’t!”

    [How can you say you love Wade,] White began, [when you’re such a needy bitch?]

    “White!” Mimic snapped.

    “Shut up!” Peter snarled.

    [Nah, Spidey. Riddle me this: Who’s the most fucked up person in the room?]

    {How is that a riddle, it’s obviously us!}

    Peter felt hands on his shoulders, keeping him still. He snarled wordlessly, wrestling against the hands, but the boxes started talking again and he couldn’t _not_ listen to them.

    {You really want us to stick around, Spidey? That’s so sweet!}

    Peter shook his head viscously. “No, I want you _gone_!”

    [That’s not what you said!]

    {Yeah, Spidey. I thought you wanted to be good for Wade – how is keeping us around going to be good for Wade?}

    “It’s not, it’s not… Shut up!”

    “Peter!” Mimic called, her hands bracketing his face. Peter blinked, torn back into reality. “Peter,” she repeated. “Don’t listen to them, okay? They’re wrong.”

    [No we’re not.]

    {We’re never wrong!} Yellow sang.

    “You are!” Mimic snapped. “So kindly shut the hell up, alright?”

    {No _you_ shut up!}

    [We’ll fight you for the right to fuck with Spidey!]

    “And you’ll lose,” she informed them with a sneer. “You’re nothing but _voices_ , and I have a body that can turn into anything.”

    “Ax!” Peter blurted out. Anything to side-track the boxes. He was stupidly surprised when it worked.

    {Oh yeah, Ax!}

    [Hey, no! We’re having an argument here! You can’t just cut –]

    {Shut up, White.}

    Mimic tilted her head, puzzled. “Ax?”

    Peter nodded. “Aximili Esgarrouth Isthill.”

    {Try saying that ten times fast!} Yellow crowed as White grumbled quietly in the background.

    “Who’s that?”

    And that was how Peter spent an entire day filling Mimic in on the joys of the Animorphs. He even promised to dig out his old copies from storage – he knew he had them _somewhere_ – and let her read them.

    Mimic had a go at shifting into Ax, but got as far as four hooves and the tail before she shuddered and reverted back to her normal appearance.

    {What happened?}

    [No Ax for us?]

    “No Ax for you,” Mimic agreed. “Apparently there’s a limit to how far I can go.” She shrugged, unconcerned. “The more you know.”

    It was getting late – after it had become clear Peter wasn’t actually planning to leave the Tower, the Avengers had disappeared to their own pursuits. Banner and Stark had both gone down to the labs, working on one science project or another. Rogers and Chicken Wing had wandered down to the gym, and Widow… Widow had literally disappeared.

    Despite the hours that had passed, Peter didn’t feel tired. He felt jittery and on edge, fingers tapping out abandoned rhythms on his thigh. He wanted out, wanted freedom, but mostly he wanted _Wade_.

    “Spidey?” Mimic asked, her voice calm.

    “I need to make sure,” he murmured in response.

    [That he still wants us?]

    Peter nodded, movement jerky. “It might have been a mistake…”

    [I _told_ you –]

    “ _Not_ what I’m talking about,” Peter said forcefully.

    The boxes were quiet. {Weapon X?} Yellow finally asked.

    [You think he might be mad at us for that?]

    “Don’t you?” Peter asked, voice barely a whisper.

    “No,” Mimic said firmly. “I don’t.”

    {But we kept it a secret…}

    “He said it was fine, right?” Mimic asked. “He won’t get mad at you, Spidey.”

    [Oh, if he fucking does, we get to bite him.]

    {What?}

    “No!”

    [Why not?]

    “You know exactly why,” Peter replied.

    “Fill me in?”

    {We _love_ Wade.}

    “We’re not going to bite him.”

    [Oh come on! It’s like the ultimate act of love.]

    “It’s really not,” Mimic said, raising an eyebrow. Peter nodded in agreement. “Seriously, White. He said he was sorry. What’s your problem?”

    {One bitten, twice shy!} Yellow sang.

    [No!] White snarled. [That’s not it!]

    “It sounds like that’s _exactly_ what it is,” Mimic replied. “Because you trusted him too, didn’t you?”

    [No,] White replied, sullen.

    “That’s a yes,” Peter supplied helpfully.

    “Yeah, I gathered. He’s really not happy with that, is he?”

    “No,” Peter replied. “He’s been really annoying about it actually.”

    {Like _really_ annoying,} Yellow added.

    “Even more annoying than Yellow, at times,” Peter said.

    {Hey!}

    [Fuck you, Spidey,] White growled. [This is a mistake. Trusting Wade, trusting _her_.]

    Mimic huffed. “Excuse me?”

    [You’re a fucking mistake,] White snapped. [This is all going to end up hurting us again and when it does, I’m not going to be sympathetic because I _fucking told you so_.]

    Peter tilted his head, still tapping away on his thigh. “I think that’s the longest you’ve ever spoken for uninterrupted,” he noted.

    [I’m not changing my mind about this. It doesn’t matter if you _love_ him, or if this is some sort of fucked up _family_. I’m not going to stop saying _no_.]

    “And I’m not going to stop proving you wrong,” Mimic snapped, her eyebrows drawn sharply over her eyes. “And neither is Wade. We’ll prove to you that we can be trusted if it’s the last thing we do.”

    [Oh, I can’t wait to see you try,] White replied venomously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoo hoo, new chapter! Weapon X got toasted, I'd be surprised if anyone survived.
> 
> (Apart from the liar in the air thing that Peter forgot about, buried somewhere under all the rubble. But he'll get there.)
> 
> Let me know what you think, next chapter things get _exciting_!
> 
> (Spidey was particularly unhinged this chapter, some random things just couldn't be stopped. And White's an asshole.)
> 
> [Fuck you, writer lady!]
> 
> {You know you want to~}


	5. Chapter 5

    Peter was pulled awake by the feeling of kisses running up the length of his spine. He made a happy noise, arching back into the feeling of scarred lips against his skin. A flash of teeth along the back of his neck made him hiss – the tongue that licked apologetically a moment later made him purr.

    “ _Buenos días_ , baby boy,” Wade murmured, sucking a kiss into the sensitive skin behind Peter’s ear. “ _Que sorpresa verte aquí. Esperando por mi_.”

    Peter groaned, eyes fluttering opened. “Wade,” he said, voice thick and heavy with sleep. “‘S it tomorrow yet?”

    Wade paused in his ministrations. “What’s so special about tomorrow?”

    {Don’t stop with the smooches!}

    Peter pushed up, head banging into what felt like Wade’s nose. “Owwww,” he whined, dropping back onto the bed.

    [Could you be any _less_ smooth?] White demanded.

    “Tomorrow,” Peter said into the pillows. “Tomorrow is when you come back.”

    Wade laughed, breath hot against Peter’s skin. “I’m back, baby boy, so I guess it is tomorrow.”

    Peter made a happy noise when Wade returned to pressing kisses into his skin, wriggling his hands out from under his chest and rolling languidly onto his back. He slitted his eyes, staring up at the impressive mass of muscle hovering over him.

    “Hello,” he purred, reaching up to wrap his arms around Wade’s neck. “That was a very pleasant wake up call.”

    Wade grinned at Peter, leaning down to kiss him squarely on the mouth in a surprisingly chaste kiss before pulling back. “You going to tell me what kept you from me for more than a week?”

    [Yeah, we fucked up a bit with that…]

    {Not our fault the stupid fucking idiots wouldn’t die!}

    Peter nodded his head. “I don’t want you to be mad at me though,” he said softly, realizing a moment later that he sounded _vulnerable_. He decided he didn’t like it, wrinkling his nose at the taste it left in his mouth.

    Wade pulled back, bright eyes examining him carefully. “You had Logan with you,” he replied. “If Logan was okay with it, I’m going to be okay with it.”

    {I think we’re maybe a little more concerned that you might be mad that we _didn’t_ invite you,} Yellow muttered.

    [Maybe you wanted a piece of the action for yourself.]

    Peter ran his fingers nervously over the skin of Wade’s neck. “We’re worried you wanted some revenge,” Peter whispered, his eyes flicking to meet Wade’s. “We – I did it for you, but you might have… Wanted your just desserts. Or something.”

    “Baby boy,” Wade murmured. “What did you take care of?”

    [Just tell him. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid, yeah?]

    {I actually really hate that saying. It still freaking hurts!}

    Peter nodded to himself. He made himself look squarely into Wade’s eyes. “Weapon X,” he said, cringing when Wade’s entire body tensed. “We took care of Weapon X.”

    For a long, drawn out minute, the room was silent. Thinking about it now, Peter didn’t actually remember how he’d gotten to the bedroom. Had Mimic carried him when he’d finally collapsed from exhaustion?

    [I think we have more important things to be focusing on.]

    {He’s going to hate us, he’s going to hate us,} Yellow chanted, sounding terrified.

    [And if he does, we can bite him, right?]

    {No!}

    “No!” Peter agreed loudly, and he felt Wade jump. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically, releasing his grip on Wade’s neck.

    “Weapon X,” Wade shuddered out a long breath. “I thought they were long gone.”

    “Um. No. They’ve been around for a while. Sending me requests… For you.” He swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet. “It took us… An embarrassingly long time to realize who they were, what they wanted you for – because they wanted you alive, Wade, don’t you doubt that for a fucking second – and by the time I did realize, there was no way in hell I was giving you to them.”

    [They’re monsters.]

    {They deserved a _much_ slower death.}

    “We were going to experiment on _them_ ,” he muttered viciously. “If Logan hadn’t been there…”

    {On the plus side, we left that guy to suffocate… Slowly!}

    [Right, I’d forgotten about him.]

    {Slow and steady wins the race, right?}

    [Yes it does.]

    Peter jumped when one of Wade’s hands brushed along his cheekbone. He blinked, eyes darting around Wade’s face to try and catch a glimpse of whatever the hero was thinking before he looked away, fingers tangling with the sheets in a decidedly nervous way.

    [Usually when we grip the sheets, it’s for a different reason entirely…]

    {Wink wink!}

    “Are you mad?” Peter asked uncertainly. Wade’s face was practically blank.

    Wade huffed. “Mad? Peter, no. I’m still processing the fact that those fuckers were still alive and kicking. I didn’t have a clue. Shit.”

    Peter fidgeted. “That… Was probably my fault,” he admitted.

    [We scared them pretty good,] White said proudly.

    {They _crapped_ their pants! Usually people just _piss_ their pants!} Yellow added gleefully.

    “How was it your fault?” Wade asked, rubbing along Peter’s cheekbone.

    Peter shrugged. “I may have threatened the minions I caught. And paid off or killed the other assassins they sent after you. We all know each other, of course. We make it our business to get to know each other. It’s like frat boys, with their stupid hazing? Only sometimes it’s lethal.”

    White sighed wistfully. [The good old days.]

    {Remember when they tried to haze _us_?}

    “That was before… This, wasn’t it?” Wade gestured between them, making Peter smile as he remembered the origins of the gesture.

    {The beginning!}

    [The time before he betrayed us.]

    “Yes,” Peter agreed with a mental glare at White.

    [Oh, a mental glare. I’m _so scared_.]

    “Okay,” Wade murmured. “I can deal. I think…” he trailed off, staring down at Peter intently. “I think I want to fuck you now,” he said.

    Peter blinked in surprise at the abrupt change of topic, but he definitely wasn’t going to complain. “You _think_?” he teased, smirking as he wrapped his arms back around Wade’s neck.

    {Yes!}

    [Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s down to hell we go…]

    {We’ve been going to hell for a _long_ time now, this is just the icing on the cake!}

    Wade growled and kissed him, and Peter parted his lips eagerly for Wade’s tongue. He arched up, wrapping his legs around Wade’s solid waist, hooking his ankles together as he kissed back with the same fevered ferocity.

    Wade’s hands were _everywhere_. They skated across the plane of his stomach, pausing to pinch at both of his nipples with quick, sure movements, creating the perfect pressure to make Peter gasp, losing any semblance of control of the kiss.

    {Playing dirty!}

    [Not that we really mind…]

    There was a knock at the door, but neither he nor Wade paid any attention to it. Peter heard the sound of the lube being opened and shuddered with anticipation, his hands running across the skin he could reach, nails scratching along the ridges of scars until Wade hissed, teeth flashing against his lip in warning.

    “Spider?” someone called from the door. The handle turned, and the door started to open.

    Peter snarled wordlessly, blindly throwing out a web and pulling the door shut with a bang. At the same time, Wade pressed the first finger inside of him.

    “Wade,” Peter gasped, arching back onto the finger.

    “Yes, baby boy?” Wade rumbled into his throat, nuzzling at the delicate skin there.

    “I need – mm!”

    “You need?” Wade repeated, scissoring the two fingers he had inside Peter. Peter squirmed, pushing himself back onto the fingers desperately. It felt like it had been longer than a week… It felt like it had been _years_.

    “You. _Now_ ,” Peter whined. The boxes were mostly quiet in his head, occasionally muttering a curse.

    “You sure, baby boy? I don’t want to hurt your delicate ass,” Wade murmured, thrusting another finger inside. Surprise was on his side, and Peter moaned before he could stop himself.

    “Never bothered you before,” Peter huffed, moving to suck at that spot on Wade’s neck, smirking against it when Wade moaned. “In this case, slow and steady _doesn’t_ win the race, you know? It just gives you a nasty case of – oh, do that again!”

    “ _Tu boca_ ,” Wade said, pressing his fingers against Peter’s prostate. “ _Santo dios, tú puta boca. ¿Qué voy hacer contigo_?”

    “Wade, _I need you now_.”

    Wade leaned in close, his breath hot against Peter’s ear. “ _La paciencia es una virtud_ ,” he murmured, nipping at Peter’s earlobe.

    Peter snarled, his hands abandoning Wade’s back and relocating between their bodies. He caught Wade’s cock in a punishing grip, flashing his fangs in a grin when Wade’s hips stuttered, a groan drawn from his chest.

    He shifted a little so that he could wrap his hands around both of their cocks, but before he could start to stroke, Wade pulled his fingers from Peter’s ass. Peter gasped, hands faltering in their grip, and Wade batted them away with ease. He hooked Peter’s legs over his shoulders and settled in between his thighs.

    “ _Sin manos_ , baby boy,” Wade said, grinding his cock against Peter’s ass. Peter squirmed, breaths coming out hard and fast. “Ready?”

    “We’ve been ready since the start!” Peter snapped, the boxes angrily echoing his sentiments. “Fuck my ‘delicate’ ass already!”

    Wade chuckled. “I know you hate being predictable, but I totally knew you were going to say that.”

    He pressed inside slowly before Peter could formulate an appropriate response. Wade caught his hands and pinned them above his head, arranging them so that he could grip both of Peter’s wrists in one large hand. Peter managed a garbled “ _Yes_ ” before becoming completely incoherent.

    But he wasn’t silent. Oh no.

    “Are you making a _porno_ in there?” Stark shouted from the door. “That’s not allowed!”

    Wade swore. “Tony, seriously?” He snapped his hips forward, and Peter trembled with the overwhelming pleasure. He couldn’t think, could hardly hear himself begging Wade to go faster, to push harder…

    “ _Casi ahí_ , baby boy?” Wade said, voice hoarse in Peter’s ear. Peter choked on his breath. “ _Puta madre, estás tan apretado_.” Wade reached down to fist Peter’s cock, thumb rubbing gently over the head. Peter groaned, and Wade’s hips stuttered in their rhythm when Peter clenched around him, mindlessly chasing his pleasure.

    Wade muttered something that sounded like a prayer – was Wade even _religious_? – before claiming Peter’s mouth in a filthy kiss that stole whatever breath Peter had left.

    They came within seconds of each other, and in the seconds before Wade collapsed on top of him, all heavy warmth and security, Peter swore he’d make Wade come first next time.

    {That.}

    [Was.]

    {Awesome!}

    [He’s great at sex, I’m not denying it.]

    {He’s fucking _fantastic_!}

    “I’ll say,” Peter muttered, voice hoarser than he expected. He cleared his throat and glanced down at Wade, who was draped over him like a blanket. Wade’s cock was still in his ass, pulsing gently with the last of his orgasm. Peter poked him in the head.

    Wade blew a raspberry on Peter’s chest in retaliation, pushing himself back up and pulling out of Peter. “Good?” Wade asked, pressing a chaste kiss to Peter’s lips.

    “Good,” Peter agreed lazily.

    [Better than good.]

    {Fan-fucking-tastic!}

    [Seriously. How did we survive a week away?]

    {What was that, Mr This-Is-A-Mistake?}

    [I stand by my opinion. But the sex is magnificent.]

   Wade stood up and offered Peter a damp cloth. Peter cocked an eyebrow as he took it. “Someone was certainly prepared.”

    “Baby boy, I became reacquainted with my right hand and my imagination while you were away,” Wade began, “and let me tell you, they were poor substitutes for the real thing. So I decided I would take care of you first thing, when I got back.”

    {He’s so sweet,} Yellow cooed.

    [He just wants to get in our pants.]

    {He can get in our pants as many times as he wants.}

    Peter hummed. “I’m with Yellow on that one.” He curled up to rub his nose against Wade’s. “I missed you too, you know. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I had fun. But Yellow kept going on and on about missing you, and White was being a downright dick about everything. It would have been nice if you could have come, but it was a surprise! For you!”

    “It was a good surprise,” Wade murmured, taking the dirty cloth from Peter’s grasp and pulling him to his feet. “Thank you.”

    Peter shrugged. “They deserved it,” he replied, reaching up to trace the outline of one of the larger scars on Wade’s face. “They hurt you, so I hurt them.”

    Wade wrapped his arms around Peter’s shoulders, letting his chin rest on the top of Peter’s head. “A lot of people thought they deserved something worse than what they got,” Wade said quietly. “But you were the only one who did anything about it.”

    [That’s because we’re love-struck _morons_.]

    {Ssh! Don’t ruin the moment!}

    [Oops,] White said dryly.

    “You’re the worst,” Peter grumbled. “You couldn’t just shut up for five more minutes.”

    [Nah. Wouldn’t want you to feel all abandoned.]

    “Asshole,” Peter said into Wade’s chest.

    “White?” Wade asked.

    “White,” Peter agreed, pulling back with a sigh. “Whatever they wanted must have been pretty important,” he said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door.

    {Or they were just trying to be cock blocks.}

    Peter frowned. “Isn’t that against the hero code or something?” he asked.

    [I think the code is thrown out when one of their members is fucking an insane, super-powered mercenary.]

    {Oh, good point!}

    “We should go see what they wanted,” Wade said, running a hand through Peter’s hair before ruffling it playfully.

    “Oi! I already have a serious case of sex hair – you’ve just gone and made it worse!” Peter snatched up the closest object – a pillow. “Prepare to meet your doom,” he proclaimed, advancing on the hero.

 

* * *

* * *

  

    “What,” Mimic started, staring around the room, “have you two done?”

    Peter glanced at her from his position on the ceiling, picking feathers out of his hair. “Nothing,” he replied innocently, as though the room didn’t look like several pillows had exploded. Which was oddly accurate. “They sent you?”

    Mimic cocked an eyebrow, eyes sweeping over the feathers scattered across the floor. “After Steve had the door slammed in his face and Princess got yelled at by Wade, they figured they should send someone who you both _actually_ liked.”

    [We love Cap!]

    {Yeah, he’s the coolest!}

    “Not to mention someone who knew the meaning of the word privacy.”

    [That’s a good one. The girl who sits in people’s heads knows the meaning of the word privacy.]

    “Ironic,” Peter added. “Have I got all the feathers out yet?”

    Mimic glanced at him. “From what I can see, yes. Where’s Wade?”

    “Shower!” Wade yelled from the bathroom. “Spidey has _scalding_ showers. My skin is delicate!”

    Peter sighed. “Sometimes, I think he forgets that he has a healing factor,” he told Mimic, dropping down to the ground. “So?”

    “Thor’s here,” Mimic explained. “They _were_ waiting for you and Wade, but I think they gave up on that idea when Wade yelled at Princess.”

    Peter clapped his hands, excited. “Operation Find Mischief!” he exclaimed.

    “There’s something else I’ve noticed,” Mimic said, her voice dropping. “I made you a promise. Do you remember it?”

    Something warned Peter against speaking out loud, so he nodded. He glanced around the room, senses on red alert. There hadn’t been any warning from his spider sense, but that didn’t mean that there was no one there.

    And Peter had had quite enough of invisible people, or whoever it was that kept planting things everywhere.

    “We’re alone?” Mimic asked, and Peter replied with a curt nod. She breathed out a sigh. “Okay. Princess… His mind’s gone weird.”

    [Weird?]

    {He’s always been weird!}

    Mimic shook her head quickly. “I can usually read him as easily as the others,” she said, her words sharp and clipped. “But lately, his mind just goes silent.”

    Peter tilted his head. “I take it that’s not something that has ever happened before.”

    “No,” she huffed. Her hands twisted nervously. “And it’s been going on for a while. I didn’t realize until I thought about it. His mind’s been going periodically quiet since before you met Mal.”

    “Do you think the two are connected?”

    [Mighty fine coincidence, if they’re not.]

    {Maybe you’re losing your powers?}

    “I can’t just _lose_ them! I’ve had them my whole life!”

    {Chill, I’m just offering ideas.}

    “As much as I hate saying this, Stark isn’t dumb. Is it possible he could have devised a way to block you out?”

    {Oh, good point.}

    [You think?]

    “Not really.” Peter shrugged. “I would be more inclined to think that if you couldn’t hear him at all, but specific thoughts?” He shook his head. “Not possible.”

    [So what?]

    “Honestly? I have no idea.” He shrugged again. “Sorry, Mimic. But I can keep an eye on him? Maybe I’ll see something you miss.”

    Mimic took a deep breath. “I still have eyes,” she muttered sullenly.

    “That may be so,” Peter replied patiently. “But we use our eyes in different ways. You’re too used to being able to read a person’s mind.”

    {I feel like this is a stealth mission!}

    [We’re great at those. Bitches never hear us coming.]

    {Ooooh! We should have a signal!}

    [For when Stark’s head goes offline?]

    Peter nodded. “That’s a good idea. Something subtle?”

    {Like picking her nose?}

    [The fuck? What is _wrong_ with you?]

    {The same thing wrong with _you_!}

    Peter sighed. “Maybe just something as simple as touching your chin?”

    Mimic nodded slowly. “I can do that.”

    “Do what?” Wade asked, bounding out of the bathroom. “Oh man, did they send you to come get us?”

    “Yes,” Mimic replied smoothly. “Thor’s already spoken to the others, but he wants to see you. He’s missed his Midgardian drinking partner. There a story behind that title?”

    Wade grinned. “I drank him under the table,” he said proudly. “Healing factor is great at keeping me sober.”

    {Great at giving you multiple erections in an hour as well,} Yellow added in a sultry voice.

    Mimic cringed.

 

* * *

* * *

 

    “Pool of Death!” Thor exclaimed, his voice a deep rumble that echoed around the room. Peter scuttled away from Wade as Thor swept forward to wrap his arms around Wade is a brief but heartfelt hug. “I have not seen you in many days, I am glad you are well!”

    “I hear your brother’s causing everyone some trouble,” Wade said, clapping Thor on the back. From the corner of his eye, Peter watched Mimic touch her chin, and immediately flicked a glance at Stark.

    [Hello, guilt.]

    Peter made a thoughtful sound. _But about what?_

    {He’s finally realized he’s been a tremendous douche?}

    [I doubt it,] White snorted.

    “And who is your new companion?” Thor asked, and Peter whipped his head around to find the god smiling brightly at him.

    [You know, for a guy who hangs out with thunder and lightning, he’s pretty sunny.]

    “This is…” Wade shot him a questioning look.

    Peter rolled his eyes and stepped forward, holding out a hand. “I’m Peter,” he said. “But you can call me the Spider.”

    It was clear Thor had heard the name – his smile vanished and his eyebrows turned into severe lines over his suddenly dark eyes.

    [Aaaaand there’s the storm.]

    {You fucking jinxed it!}

    “I have heard tales of you, Spider,” the god rumbled. “You have caused my friends a great deal of trouble.”

    Peter shrugged. “A guy’s gotta eat. Plus, bad guys deserve a more fitting punishment than being thrown into a cell. We make them _regret_.”

    Mimic tapped her chin.

    [Smooth corner of the eye glance there, Spidey. I saw shame?]

    {Now I really want to know what he’s hiding!}

    “I do not understand why you are here,” Thor said.

    [How can such a big guy look like a fucking puppy?]

    {It’s the eyes, right?}

    Peter smiled. “I’m an honorary Avenger,” he replied. “I get to play house with Wade now, and none of these people can stop me. It’s great. Very liberating.”

    Thor’s brow crinkled when he frowned. “You are Wade’s… Partner?”

    “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds so _fancy_ ,” Peter said, catching sight of Mimic tapping her chin again. “Honestly, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Really, it is. But I have a really, really important question.”

    “What, bug boy?” Stark snapped.

    “I was getting there, Princess,” Peter shot back. “Patience is a virtue, you know?”

    [Rude ass.]

    {Can we bite him again?}

    Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, we can’t bite him again,” he replied. “He’s technically our team mate. Sort of. I mean, we haven’t signed anything yet.”

    [Pump him full of venom anyway. We can turn him into a husk.]

    Mimic cleared her throat. “Spidey,” she said quietly.

    “Right, yes! Question: Why can I hear one extra heartbeat?”

    The entire room froze. “Spider,” Widow said, voice very calm. “What do you mean?”

    “Exactly what I said, Widow. There’s ten of us in here: Mimic, Wade, Widow, Thor, Rogers, Princess, Chicken Wing, Barton, Banner, and me. Buuuut… There are eleven heartbeats. The last one is...” He pointed at the seemingly empty doorway, head cocked to one side. “Riiiiight there…”

    [Ba-dump, ba-dump…] said White.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Things are getting exciting~ (In my humble opinion) Make sure to leave a comment, I love you guys!
> 
> Thank you to Niqui for translations (and happy birthday, this chapter is yours):
> 
> Buenos días - _Good morning/Morning_  
>  Que sorpresa verte aquí. Esperando por mi - _Fancy seeing you here. Waiting for me_  
>  Tu boca - _Your mouth_  
>  Santo dios, tú puta boca. ¿Qué voy hacer contigo? - _Jesus Christ, your fucking mouth. What am I going to do with you?_  
>  La paciencia es una virtud - _Patience is a virtue_  
>  Sin manos - _No hands_  
>  Casi ahí - _Almost there_  
>  Puta madre, estás tan apretado - _Jesus fuck, you’re so tight_
> 
> (And yes, Mimic _did_ have to carry Peter to his room. He slept like a baby)


	6. Chapter 6

    Predictably, everyone turned to look. Mimic tapped her chin again, and this time, it was _fear_ that flashed through Stark’s eyes. What _was_ he afraid of? The fact that there was someone invisible hanging around his Tower – _inside_ his Tower – or that Peter could sense the invisible person just fine?

    [Do we call him out on it?]

    {Why wouldn’t we? Princess is definitely hiding something!}

    _But if we do, whoever is hiding might run. And then we’ll never find out what’s going on._

    [Think it’s the asshole we’re after?]

    _If it is, it means Stark is involved._

    [Or that he knows who is]

    {Someone can’t just sneak into his stupid Tower!} Yellow shouted. {He _has_ to be involved!}

    [He’s definitely suspicious.]

    “There is no one,” Thor said, breaking Peter’s concentration. The god had moved towards the spot Peter had pointed to. It looked as though he’d even gone as far as to swing his hammer around. Peter wasn’t sure how he felt about that particular detail – swinging Mjölnir around like that was both ineffective and shockingly disrespectful to such a fantastic weapon.

    Then again, the hammer had deemed Thor worthy to wield it, so Peter supposed his opinion didn’t exactly matter.

    “I imagine whoever it was fled the moment I pointed them out,” Peter said dryly. That wasn’t entirely true – he could still hear the heartbeat. It _had_ moved – testing the limits of his hearing, perhaps?

    White snorted. [Gotta try harder than that, you invisible shit.]

    {Can we bite him?}

    “Can you stop asking that?” Peter muttered. He frowned. Should he point out that he could still hear the heartbeat, or lie and say he couldn’t? As much as he wanted to scare the unknown person… He wanted to see Stark’s reaction even more.

    “I can’t hear it anymore,” Peter said, and he didn’t need to look at Mimic to know she was tapping her chin. Stark’s eyes were relieved, but his mouth turned down at the corners, betraying his annoyance.

    [That settles it.]

    {We gotta tell someone about this!}

    [He’s betrayed his teammates!]

    {Spidey, what are you waiting for?}

    _Why does this settle it?_

    [What? Are you an idiot?]

    _I simply want to hear your reasoning,_ Peter replied, vaguely paying attention to the conversation going on around him.

    [He’s relieved we can’t find them.]

    {Annoyed that whoever it was came close enough to be sensed!}

    [He’s obviously with this person!]

    _These are all valid points, but I don’t understand why we have to out him._

    [{Because he’s obviously betraying everyone!}] the boxes shouted, loud enough that Mimic flinched.

    _And why do you two care?_

    [We don’t.]

    {Couldn’t particularly care less.}

    [But we don’t like _him_.]

    {And that’s a good enough reason.}

    “So rare for you two to agree,” Peter muttered.

    [Besides, I want that little rat caught.]

    _You’re assuming that whoever that was is our planter, correct?_

    {Obviously!}

    _Why obviously? Has anything been planted since Mimic started getting blocked?_

    [She said it started before Mal, so yes.]

    {Wade’s poor finger,} Yellow said mournfully.

   _But there was no scent,_ Peter pointed out. _If we wander over there, I’ll bet there’ll be a scent._

    [Off you go, _Logan_.]

    {Our sense of smell isn’t that great!}

    _Which we are thankful for,_ Peter said primly. _The headaches I would get… People these days wear way to much perfume._

    He didn’t go to the spot he’d pointed at – the area would be covered with Thor’s scent now anyway. He wandered over to the most likely path of retreat. Peter had to skip around a bit until he found what he was looking for – a very odd, faded already scent of ice and something else that made his nose tingle.

    {Well there goes that idea,} Yellow muttered petulantly.

    [What now, Wonder-Nose?]

    _Now…_ Peter made a thoughtful noise, drifting back to stand at Mimic’s side. _What do you think we should do?_

    Mimic pursed her lips. “How would someone sneak in?” she demanded, her voice sharp as she glared at Stark. Peter smirked, rocking back on his heels as he flicked his eyes to each member of the Avengers. He noticed they all looked to Stark, except Wade, who made a point to look at Peter.

    [He is _onto_ us.]

    {We have to tell him.}

    “Nothing to tell,” Peter muttered absently.

    “Someone can’t ‘sneak in’,” Stark replied, tone clipped. His brows were drawn sharply over his eyes, and he looked seriously pissed off. “Jarvis is the Tower’s security, and there is no one in the world with the brain power to hack into him.”

    [Oh god, could we _please_ have a go?]

    {That would be… A change to our usual fun times, but it sounds _fun_!}

    “I’d need a crash course in computer… Stuff first,” Peter replied, wriggling his fingers. “Hey, I’d make an excellent hacker!” he said loudly when both boxes began to laugh. “I hate you two,” he muttered, glaring darkly at the floor.

    “If no one can sneak in,” Mimic said, her voice still sharp, “then you must know who that was.”

    “How do I know there really was someone there?” Stark countered. “I mean, bug boy could just be making it up. Why are you trusting the words of an insane mercenary?”

    [He makes a startlingly good point.]

    {Yeah, why did they all believe us?}

    Peter’s lip curled. “Trust,” he hissed, and saw Wade flinch from the corner of his eye. He frowned minutely, but started to grin the next moment, fangs on full display. “Well that’s an easy fix, right?” Peter asked, skipping towards Stark. “We can just ask Jarvis.”

    Rogers nodded. “He makes a valid point,” he said.

    “Thank you!” Peter exclaimed.

    [A valid point. We made one?]

    {Who are you and what have you done with Spidey?} Yellow wailed.

    [Joking aside, you know Jarvis could lie.]

    “But the real question of the day,” Peter replied, “is ‘will he?’”

    [You think he won’t?]

    Peter rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Either Jarvis says there was someone, and we all know I was telling the truth, or Jarvis says there wasn’t someone –”

    “And I get to kick your lying ass out of my Tower,” Stark butted in.

    “And _we_ know he can lie,” Peter finished, ignoring Stark. “Which is cute, really. I mean, Jarvis would lie to protect Princess. And if he _does_ lie… Well, what else has he lied about?”

    {‘No sir, I won’t take over the world’.}

    Peter hummed in agreement. “Those movies about technology taking over… Kinda makes you nervous around Jarvis, huh? _I, Robot_ is a particular favourite of mine, although who can look past _Terminator_? Oh, and _Eagle Eye_!”

    [Not to mention _Age of Ultron_.]

    {Spoilers!}

    Peter nodded, bouncing on his toes. “Classics, the lot of them.”

    “Tony,” Wade said. “I think you need to check with Jarvis.”

    “You really believe him?” Stark demanded. “You believe him over me?”

    “This isn’t about belief,” Wade replied easily. “I know you wouldn’t do anything that would endanger anyone in the Tower. I trust you. But if there _was_ someone there, listening to us, watching us… We _need_ to know.”

    [Would you like a side of shame with that guilt, Princess?]

    {I’m lost.}

    [What’s new?]

    “Jarvis,” Rogers said, addressing the ceiling. “Was there someone other than us in this room?”

    There was a pause before Jarvis responded. “My scans detect a heat signature that does not correspond to any individual present,” the AI said. “I am scanning the rest of the Tower now.”

    “How long will that take?” Widow asked sharply.

    “Jarvis, make sure you include the lower levels and the roof,” Stark said. “And search for any faults in the Tower’s structure. If someone snuck into my Tower, I want to know _how_.”

    [Believable?]

    {No.}

    “That’s just because you’ve made up your mind that he’s the bad guy,” Peter muttered. At this point in time, Peter was almost certain Stark was hiding someone in the Tower. The question was _who_.

    [And how, pray tell, do we find that out?]

    {Patience, young Padawan.}

    [Bitch doesn’t even like Star Wars.]

    {But she let us have that one!}

    “Listen, Thor,” Stark said, “until I know for sure that the Tower is secure, there isn’t anything I can do to help you search for your brother. I’m sorry, but if I start researching something and there is someone who can sneak into my lab and steal my stuff… Nu-uh. No thank you. Not happening.”

    “That is understandable, Man of Iron,” Thor boomed. “I do not expect that Loki has fled to your realm, but I thought it prudent to bring you news of our search.”

    “Basically, you’ve found nothing,” Barton sighed.

    Wade raised his hand. “I thought your Asgardian prison was inescapable,” he pointed out. “What’s up with that? Did he use some of his magic to break out?”

    Thor shook his head. “Loki’s powers were bound by the Allfather when his sentence was announced,” he said. “Before he fled Asgard, he found a way to restore his power, but how he escaped is a mystery.”

    {Maybe he just tricked them into thinking he was in there,} Yellow suggested.

    [What’s the point?]

    {Isn’t he into that sort of thing?}

    “But you don’t think he’ll come back here?” Widow asked.

    Thor shook his head again. “I do not. This is the place of Loki’s defeat – I think he would find it difficult to return to such a place. Without causing any mayhem.”

    “And since we’ve had no reports of mayhem…” Banner murmured.

    “You think we’re safe?” Barton finished. Peter noticed his hands were flexing around his bow. “You think we’ve seen the last of him?”

    “Perhaps not the last, but my brother will not trouble you before we find him,” Thor replied. “And if he does, you shall have the aid of Asgard.”

    [ _Sweet_.]

    {Does that mean we get to meet Daddy-oh?}

    [If Loki shows up? Maybe.]

    {Will he be riding his horse?}

    [You mean his grandson.]

    {Huh?}

    [The horse is Loki’s kid.]

    {Say _what now_? He fucked a horse?}

    [No, he’s the mother in this scenario.]

    {… Norse gods are _fucked up_ , man…}

    Peter snorted on a laugh. “Greeks are easier,” he said, amused. “Everything is Zeus.”

    [Zeus needs to keep his dick in his pants.]

    {Does your dick hang low, does it wobble to and fro?}

    “Where did _that_ come from?” Mimic demanded.

    [Left field.]

    {Your blind spot!}

    Mimic groaned. “You two are the _worst_.”

    “What about me?” Peter asked with a pout. “I have to rank!”

    [No way, Stark’s worse than you.]

    {Widow’s worse than you too.}

    [Also Fury.]

    {Can I just say all of Weapon X?}

    [Wade.]

    {No! Not Wade.}

    [Yes Wade.]

    Peter sighed and knuckled his eyes. “Are we done?” he demanded. “Because I’m tired and this is all very, very boring. Don’t get me wrong, finding Loki is the _least_ of my worries right now. And I haven’t officially signed up for all… This.” He waved a hand to indicate the unofficial meeting.

    “Let’s go,” Mimic agreed.

    “Baby boy, we’re having a lunch date!” Wade shouted as he and Mimic made a break for it.

    Peter grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” he called back.

 

* * *

* * *

 

    Peter walked past one of the many guest rooms in Stark’s Tower, humming a tune to himself. He wasn’t about to admit it aloud, but he was pretty sure he was lost. He and Mimic had made a break for the roof, and had spent a good three hours discussing the problem’s that had been raised by the invisible individual and Stark’s glaring memory silences.

    In the end, it had been decided that they would both keep an eye on Stark, and Peter would be on the lookout for any other appearances by their invisible friend. Peter hoped they would show up soon – he _really_ wanted to chase something.

    And while he _was_ lost, he’d had the unexpected pleasure of finding his way into a computer room where he easily accessed the whereabouts of one Norman Osborn. Jarvis hadn’t even scolded him for that.

    {Date!} Yellow said excitedly as they passed another room. Was there an end to them? How many rooms did a guy need?

    From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something… Vanish? He hardly paid it any mind until his spider sense tingled in warning.

    He backtracked, staring at the now empty room with his head titled to one side. “I wasn’t seeing things again, right?” Surely it was too early for the invisible shit to make another appearance?

    [I saw it.]

    {Me too! I distinctly remember the colour green.}

    “Hey, does it annoy you that they always use green for bad guys?” Peter asked. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it. But _come on_. At least get some new material! Maleficent, Ursula, Green Goblin… _Loki_.” His spider sense shrieked, and Peter twisted to one side. A dagger shuddered into the wall beside his head.

    [That was rude.]

    Peter laughed, excitement welling up, spilling over in a sharp grin. “But man, what a shot! I almost got skewered!”

    [Don’t sound so excited.]

    Peter snorted, pulling the dagger from the wall. “I can sound excited if I want. Why aren’t I allowed? Everyone _knows_ I’m fucked in the head.”

    [Loki didn’t.]

    {He does now!}

    “Well, you learn something new every day,” Peter replied. “I gotta return this. But it’s so _shiny_. And look how sharp it is!” He ran a finger over the tip, grinning when blood welled immediately to the surface. “I like this knife.”

    {Let’s keep it!}

    [I feel like that would be a bad idea.]

    “Yellow always has bad ideas. But I do want it. Hey, hey, can I have it? A memento of the time you _almost_ killed me!” Spider sense screaming, Peter dropped to all fours as another dagger slammed into the wall above him. “A swing and a miss, partner!” Peter laughed.

    And that’s when the fight _really_ began.

 

* * *

* * *

  

    Peter had never liked just swinging his knife around blindly, but what else was he supposed to do against an invisible opponent? Loki’s attacks came from all directions, and twice he felt the magic fire – coloured green, of course – get a little too close to his skin for comfort. Burns were not fun to heal from.

    [Hey, felt a bit of resistance there.]

    Peter stared at the blood on his knife in surprise. “Hey look, I got him!” he said proudly.

    {What does it taste like?}

    “Good question!” Peter stuck out his tongue and licked the flat of the blade, humming contemplatively.

    [Verdict?]

    “Not as good as Wade.”

    {Nothing tastes as good as Wade.}

    Peter snapped his fingers. “ _That’s_ where we were going!”

    {Oh yeah!}

    Peter fiddled with his knife. “Hey, Loki, you got the time? I was supposed to be somewhere, like, ages ago.”

    It took a moment, but eventually a low, velvety voice answered from one of the darker corners. “It is the middle of your Midgardian day.”

    [Silvertongue.]

    {I can see that.}

    [That voice is like sex and chocolate. Bottle that and you have heaven.]

    {I’m sorry, I thought I was the one who never made sense. The hell was that?}

    “You really suit your name,” Peter said, peering critically at the corner the voice had come from. “Silvertongue. Fascinating. You suit your other name, too.”

    “And what is my other name, mortal?”

    {Get a load of this guy. Acting like he’s a god.}

    White sighed. [He _is_ a god, moron.]

    {No need to be such an ass about it!}

    “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know, your Godly-ness. You weren’t born yesterday.” Peter snickered at his own joke.

    {What is it?}

    Peter jumped up, sticking to the ceiling as Loki appeared behind him, arm extended to stab Peter in the back. The god looked around, flustered.

    “The Trickster,” Peter replied, and Loki glanced up sharply. Peter gave him a little wave. “Hey down there.”

    That was when Stark burst into the room. His eyes immediately went to Loki. “What are you _doing_?” he hissed. “I _told_ you –”

    [Really? How long has Loki _been_ here?]

    {He doesn’t look at all surprised.}

    “I’m going to go out on a limb and say he’s really _not_ ,” Peter said, dropping back to the floor. The way Stark was looking at him… Yes, Peter decided. He liked it.

    It was fantastic. Stark’s mouth opened, closed, reminding Peter of a fish. Peter’s grin grew wider with each passing second of silence. He was glad he hadn’t called Stark out at the meeting earlier – if he had, he probably wouldn’t have had the chance to savour Stark’s terrified surprise as long as he would have liked.

    “What are you doing here, bug boy?” Stark finally settled on. His eyes flickered once to Loki before he turned his attention to Peter. Subtly, he moved in front of the god.

    [Interesting…]

    {Loki’s a god. Why is Stark trying to protect him?}

    “Hey, I have you by the balls, Princess. You really want to insult me?” Peter snapped back. “I _was_ on my way to see Wade – it’s date day, how exciting! – when all of a sudden there was green, and everyone _knows_ green is the colour of bad guys – except me. I’m red and blue and white. I’m America! Next thing I know, knives are being thrown at me from every direction, I’m moving like a freaking _ninja_ –”

    “That is not what transpired,” Loki said in that sinful voice. His bright green eyes were narrowed, black brows furrowed in annoyance as he glared at Peter.

    “Hey, I’m telling the story.” Peter wagged a finger at Loki, whose mouth twitched at the corners. “Keep that damned tongue in your mouth, Trickster.” He returned his attention to Stark. “As I was saying. There was fire and smoke and chaos –”

    [That wasn’t what you were saying,] White interrupted.

    “I am sick of your nit-picking! Don’t side with these two.”

    {Yeah, Stark’s on that team.}

    “Stark is a dick.”

    [I’m not siding with Stark. I was just pointing out –]

    “And if you side with a dick, you’re dead to Yellow and I,” Peter interrupted.

    {Yeah, me and Spidey will kick you out!}

    “Spidey and I,” Peter corrected.

    {What?}

    “English is your first and only language. You should _try_ and get it right.”

    [Spidey won’t kick me out. He couldn’t stand it with just your dumb voice in his head.]

    “To be fair, I’d be even happier without both of you.” Peter realized that Stark and Loki were talking and decided to tune in.

    “I told you, if you’re going to stay here, you can’t let anyone see you!” Stark was saying. “I’m letting you stay here because you assured me I could trust you. Can’t you keep a low profile?”

    “I was hardly expecting someone to walk past while I was reading,” Loki replied reasonably. “I cannot remain invisible indefinitely.”

    “Yes, you said. Limited resource and whatever.” Stark threw his hands up. “The point is you were seen by the most dangerous person in this tower –” Peter preened “– and now I have to find a way to keep him from telling everyone. Not to mention the stunt you pulled this morning!”

    “Hey, I wasn’t planning on telling anyone,” Peter said. “Unlike some people,” he shot a look at Stark, “I can _keep_ secrets.”

    “No one asked for your input, bug boy.”

    “I’ve told you once, I’ve told you twice,” Peter began pleasantly, “I much prefer web head.” He dropped to all fours and scuttled closer to Stark. “Come one now, Princess,” he said softly. “Let me hear you say it.”

    [This has taken an almost pornographic turn.]

    “I don’t do foursomes,” Peter replied absently. “Too many things to focus on. Give me one man, a couple of packets of lube and _maybe_ some toys – no gags, or rope! – and I’ll show you a good time. But foursomes, man. Too many dicks.”

    [That’s a sentence I never thought you’d say,] White said dryly. [Wait. Hang on. Huh?]

    {Foursomes?}

    [Where?]

    Peter tapped a finger on the carpet, indicating Loki and Stark with a thrust of his chin. “These two are shagging. Duh. Why else would Princess let Loki stay in his precious Tower?”

    Yellow gasped. {FrostIron!}

    [Unexpected.]

    {How did we miss it?}

    “The important question is who tops?” Peter pointed out. There was a moment of silence in his head while the boxes considered.

    [I can’t really see either of them on their back,] White admitted.

    {Stark is the bottom.}

    “What makes you say that?”

    {Excuse me, god vs mortal? Who do _you_ think is top?}

    [That’s actually a really good point. I vote Loki is top.]

    Peter was about to reply when a familiar, much-loved (but right at the moment kind of horrible) voice echoed up the hall.

    “Baby boy!”

    “Oh no.”

    [We forgot about Wade.]

    {We forgot about the date!}

    “This is bad. Wade is totally going to dump me now,” Peter said, rocketing to his feet. “I can’t believe I forgot about the date. We were just thinking about it too!”

    “Are you insane?” Stark hissed. He waved at Loki. “We have bigger issues to worry about than your domestics!”

    [Of course we’re insane.]

    Peter raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Am I insane? You’ve met me, yeah? We’ve talked, traded insults? I recall I almost killed you once. We’ve punched each other in the face. It was a bonding experience, I know. Am I insane? I’m insulted, I really am.”

    {Maybe we’ve been acting too normal?}

    “That’s impossible. We don’t act normal. We just took on a god. And made him bleed. Normal people don’t do that. I am most definitely _not_ normal.” And then he frowned. “And _excuse me_? _We_ do not have bigger issues to worry about. This is _all_ you, Princess,” he said, waving a hand at Loki. “He’s not my fucking problem, Stark. Learn to deal with your own messes, asshole.”

    “Baby boy!” Wade’s voice was much closer.

    Peter paled. “Stop distracting me!” he hissed at Stark. “Also, your boyfriend has vanished. So we’re all good. Now we gotta trade insults. That’s easy. You _are_ the idiot with public enemy number one hidden in his spare room. Kudos to you.”

    “Public enemy number one? Isn’t that you?”

    “Who, me? Haven’t you heard? I’m _reformed_. I’m a chocolate swirl cake now.”

    White groaned. [Not again.]

    Peter’s spider sense tingled, and he ducked Loki’s dagger. “Stop throwing shit at me!” he snarled, spinning to face the impassive villain. “I was on your side, man. I mean, I get the whole world domination thing – cliché, but I get it –”

    There was a very loud, very solid thump from behind him, as though something had fallen onto the carpet. But there hadn’t been anything behind him.

    “Shit Loki,” Stark said. “What the fuck?”

    Peter glanced over his shoulder and saw a pair of very familiar boots attached to an even more familiar pair of legs. He rose to his feet, stalking over to where Wade lay, staring blankly up at the roof. Loki’s dagger was buried in his chest.

    [He was aiming for Wade.]

    “Or he got lucky.”

    {I think he was aiming for Wade.}

    “If he was aiming for Wade, I’m going to bite him,” Peter said, leaning down to yank the dagger from Wade’s chest. He nudged the dead hero with his foot. “Time to wake up, big man. You have to stop me from doing anything stupid, you see.”

    “He is dead,” Loki said, sounding puzzled.

    “Yes, thank you for pointing that out.” Peter nudged Wade harder. “C’mon. You have to yell at Stark for this. He _let_ Loki stay here. _And_ they’re fucking. The boxes think Stark is bottom. What about you?”

    “I think there are nicer ways to wake up,” Wade groaned, eyes flickering up to meet Peter’s. Peter didn’t bother to deny himself the relief he felt when Wade sat up. “I think I deserve a blowjob. You missed our date. Hang on.” He blinked up at Peter, blue eyes flickering towards Loki and Stark. “Tony and Loki?”

    {It’s not our fault.}

    “Now see here, we were coming! Ha – coming! We took a left, then a right, went up the wall, did a little jig on the roof and made the maid – ha! – scream.”

    {Made the maid,} Yellow snickered.

    “But then – get this – I’m walking past this room and there’s green, right in the corner of my eye, and everyone _knows_ green is the colour of bad guys. Next thing I know, knives are being thrown at me from every direction, I’m moving like a freaking _ninja_ –”

    “How is that man still alive?” Loki demanded imperiously. “My dagger went through his heart.”

    Peter pulled Wade to his feet. “And it turns out to be _Loki_. Wow. I was having the biggest fangirl moment – after all, me and him? We’re knife buddies – and then Stark came in and I _saw_ him earlier, looking all guilty. Well, Mimic clued me in. Stark’s head’s been _real_ quiet, apparently. Didn’t expect _this_ to be what he was guilty about, though.”

    [That came from left-field.]

    {Popped up out of nowhere, it did.}

    Peter went to continue, but Wade put a finger to his lips. “Shush, baby boy.”

    [He didn’t like our story.]

    {Who are you kidding? He _loved_ it!}

    “You want to explain why there’s a murdering psycho chilling in your spare room?” Wade asked, grabbing Peter by the wrist and tugging him so that he was half-hidden behind Wade’s ridiculously muscular body.

    {He’s protecting us!}

    [That’s sweet. I’m going to go barf now.]

    “Don’t throw up in my head,” Peter hissed, trying to pull his arm free from Wade’s grip. Not that he was opposed to the whole hand holding thing, it was just that Wade’s grip was really actually quite tight and his fingers were tingling.

    Stark threw up his hands. “I’ll make him leave. I’ll chase him out. Just… Don’t tell anyone he was here?”

    Loki glared at Stark, Stark looked at Wade pleadingly, and Peter scratched his nose. This didn’t have anything to do with him anymore.

    “I don’t really understand,” Wade said. “You can’t handle talking to Peter without biting his head off, but the guy who led an alien army to earth and killed lots of people? You invite him to stay? What gives?”

    [That reminds me, we never got to test our venom out on those aliens.]

    “It’s okay – if all goes well I’ll get to test it on a _god_ ,” Peter soothed.

    {We could have bitten Thor at any time,} Yellow said.

    “But Thor’s a good guy. Plus, he’s too funny. _And_ we’ve only met him once. Seems sort of rude to do the whole biting thing on the first date, yeah?”

    {Didn’t we do that all the time?}

    [I love how he always breaks Tony’s mugs.]

    “Another!” Peter said in a deep voice, pretending to throw something at the floor. He grinned. “See, he’s funny. No biting the god of… He’s the god of thunder, right? Why is he always playing with lightning?”

    {Lightning looks cooler.}

    [You can see it better than thunder.]

    {It definitely looks cooler.}

    [Also, thunder and lightning? They’re like best buddies.]

    “Like Bonnie and Clyde.”

    {Cap and his shield!}

    [One of these things just doesn’t belong here.]

    “It’s Loki, isn’t it?”

    {Maybe the next time Loki tries to take on the Avengers, he’ll bring those aliens back.}

    “But he’s fucking an Avenger now,” Peter pointed out.

    [That doesn’t mean he’s not the bad guy.]

    {Yeah! Look at us.}

    “But we’re partially reformed,” Peter said. “We don’t kill innocent people now.”

    [Kind of hard to consider anyone ‘innocent’ nowadays, isn’t it?]

    {Plenty of room for loopholes.}

    “I _love_ loopholes!” Peter exclaimed. “It’s a game, right? Find the loophole. I am the master of that game! I have a trophy and everything.”

    [You made that trophy. For yourself.]

    Peter rolled his eyes. “Just because I made it myself doesn’t make it any less true, White. You’re just jealous _you_ didn’t get one.”

    {I did!}

    “Yeah, for ‘Biggest Pain in my Ass’,” Peter snapped.

    {Still a trophy!} Yellow said triumphantly.

    “It was going to Stark before you started whining and – get this – being a pain in my ass.”

    {I cheated Stark out of a trophy!}

    “Would you stop being so happy?”

    [This is your fault. You brought up the trophy.]

    Peter pouted, attempting to fold his arms before he realized Wade still had has hand wrapped around Peter’s wrist. At least his fingers had stopped tingling. “Yellow brought up loopholes.”

    {White brought up the question of innocence!}

    “He did.”

    [You were the one who said we were reformed! Don’t blame this on me.]

    Peter giggled. “Guys, guys, we’re having a backwards conversation.”

    {Hey we are!}

    [Then the root of the problem…]

    “The root of the problem is Stark!” Peter finished.

    […How do you figure?]

    {Even I’m not seeing that.}

    “You guys were going to blame Loki? Bros before hoes, lads. And Stark is _definitely_ not a bro. Apparently he’s a hoe though. So it works!”

    [Oh, I get it.]

    {I don’t.}

    [What’s new?] White asked rudely.

    “None of this would have happened if Stark hadn’t let Loki stay here,” Peter explained. “He could have said no, could have tried to kick Loki’s butt out of his tower, but,” Peter blinked his eyes into focus, peering around Wade to grin at Loki, “he didn’t.”

    {Oooooh. I get it!}

    [That’s because Spidey just explained it.] Peter could hear the eye roll.

    “You keep… _interesting_ company, Stark,” Loki drawled. Peter’s spider sense tingled warningly.

    [Hey, what are we? Pets? He doesn’t keep us!]

    Peter nodded. “Yeah! We stay here of our own accord.” He paused, his head tilting in confusion. “Wait. Why do we stay here? I don’t like Stark, the Avengers don’t like me…”

    [Wade.]

    {Wade. Duh.}

    Peter brightened. “Of course. Wade. But really, we could just move out together.” Peter’s mouth fell open. “This is a _genius_ idea. Why haven’t I thought of it before?”

    [You probably have.]

    {You just forgot.}

    [Constant sex will do that to you.]

    {We should definitely live with Wade.}

    [We _do_.]

    “But we technically live with the Avengers too,” Peter pointed out.

    {But we _love_ the Avengers!}

    “We still haven’t got their autographs. Imagine how much money we’d make selling them.”

    [Nothing compared to what we have.]

    “It’s probably be enough to cover whatever we pay for an apartment,” Peter said. “Stupid plebs will pay top dollar for it, pretend they got to meet Cap himself, rub one out with the fantasy of Stark actually _touching their hand_ …” Peter trailed off with a gasp, pretending to fan himself.

    [Wouldn’t that be more Widow?]

    “Only for the straight plebs,” Peter replied. “The gay ones totally go for Stark. It’s the face hair, I tell you. Also, money. Stark’s an attractive bundle. If you can look past the general dickishness he insists upon. Also the drinking. _And_ the daddy issues. Not to mention that a lot of his money was made from the blood of innocents.”

    Stark took a steadying breath. “Wilson, get that little shit out of my sight before I get my suit and kill him.”

    [Rude!]

    {Fuck you!}

    “Oh Stark. You have to know I’d make sure to slice you up _real_ good before you even got into your suit, right?” Peter tilted his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “What? You think I’d _let_ you smack me around _again_?” Stark flinched, jaw clenching. “No thanks. Had enough of that for a _lifetime_.”

    “Right,” Wade said, slapping a hand over Peter’s mouth. Peter gave an indignant squawk. “We’re leaving.” He turned and walked Peter out of the room, pausing at the door to shoot a look at Stark. “You have to tell Thor. He’s been going nuts about him.” He nodded at Loki. “You keep this from him, he’s never going to forgive you. And the rest of the team.”

    “Oh man, Barton’s going to _love_ this!” Peter exclaimed, but his voice was muffled by Wade’s hand.

    Stark’s shoulders slumped. “I know,” he replied wearily. “I just need a little more time.”

    [No way!]

    {Tell him you sack of shit!}

    Wade nodded once. “I’ll give you a week,” he replied. He inclined his head at Loki. “Nice to meet you when you’re not trying to destroy the world,” he said. “I totally prefer you without the horns, by the by. Very bad fashion choice. Just so you know. _Screams_ that you’re the bad guy. You should have held up a sign, would have been less obvious.”

    {Bye bye, Captain Obvious!} Yellow shouted as Wade dragged him from the room, Peter waving cheerfully at Loki and mouthing 'Call me' before the door slammed closed between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beep boop, new chapter! This one was mostly written out already, just had a bit of trouble with the beginning. Slightly longer than other chapters because it ran away from me a bit...
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments! I hope you enjoy :)


	7. Chapter 7

    “Wade,” Peter said, bouncing along behind him. Wade still had Peter’s wrist in a tight grip, so Peter didn’t have much of a choice but to follow his boyfriend down the hall, away from Loki and Stark. “I thought we had a date? I was looking forward to it!”

    {Bedroom date!}

    [That’s just sex.]

    Peter’s spider sense was still tingling, sending shivers down his spine. “Hey, Wade?”

    Wade grunted in response, continuing to drag Peter down the hall.

    “Are you mad at me?”

    Wade grunted again, throwing open the door to their room. After catching them sneaking out of each other’s room one too many times, Stark had finally caved and moved them both into another room. Which, Peter had noticed, was probably the furthest room from the kitchen.

    What an asshole.

    [He’s mad.]

    {He’s really mad.}

    “But why?” Peter asked. “I didn’t do anyth-oof!” Peter landed on their bed, bounced, and then sat up in a burst of movement because Wade had just. Thrown. Him. Onto the bed. Like he weighed _nothing_.

    {Why does that have to be so hot?} Yellow whined.

    Wade stalked to the bed, catching Peter by the ankles and dragging him onto his back. Peter lashed out with his feet, but in another show of superior muscle (although it might have had more to do with combat experience than superior muscle at this point, considering how much stronger Peter had gotten), Wade flipped Peter onto his stomach, pressing his face into the bed. Peter turned his head to the side so he could breathe.

    White groaned. [Someone save us.]

    Wade draped himself over Peter, cock pressed against the crack of Peter’s ass. “Didn’t do anything?” Wade whispered, lips brushing against Peter’s ear.

    Peter shivered. “I didn’t!”

    “You got into a fight with _Loki_ ,” Wade hissed.

    [We did.]

    {We totally would have kicked his ass.}

    “Would have kicked his stupid magic ass all the way to China,” Peter agreed.

    Wade yanked down Peter’s pants, exposing his ass to Wade’s heated skin. Peter shuddered. “He could have _killed_ you.”

    “Hey!” Peter said, affronted. “I may not be as durable as you, big man, but I am adept in the art of survival.”

    [Spider, remember?]

    “I have skills,” Peter added. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me,” heavy, _heavy_ sarcasm, “but I was fine.”

    Wade made a wordless sound of frustration and pressed two fingers into Peter’s ass without any warning. Peter hissed, squirming underneath Wade, grateful that Wade had seen fit to drench his fingers in lube but still... Two fingers at once?

    “The guy’s a fucking _god_ , baby boy.” Wade pressed in, fingers finding Peter’s prostate with practised ease. “You may be the Spider, but I will not let you go picking fights with people like _him_.” Wade pulled his fingers out, eliciting a whine from Peter. “What happens if you die, Peter?” he demanded, fingers squeezing around Peter’s cock.

    Peter groaned. The fingers were too tight, too fucking tight. There was no way he could come like this. “I won’t die,” Peter moaned, feeling Wade shifting around him. “You always save me.”

    “But what happens if one day I can’t?” Wade breathed, and the raw emotion in his voice was enough to convince Peter that yes, he had fucked up. Again.

    He didn’t get a chance to reply – Wade pressed inside, breathing heavily as he pressed deeper and deeper until Peter could feel his balls pressed against his ass. The stretch, the burn… Why did it always _feel so good_? Was it because it was _Wade_ , or did he just really like taking it up the ass?

    [Questions for another day, we have bigger issues to deal with.]

    { _Bigger_! I get it!}

    “So deep,” he managed to say, jaw hanging open as he gasped for air. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so full.

    Oh wait, yes he could. Last night.

    {Oh snap!}

    “Always,” Peter gasped. “You have always saved me.” _Even when I didn’t want you to._

    Wade began to thrust, fingers still punishingly tight around Peter’s cock, and Peter whined. They were breaking the ‘no-fucking-before-talking’ rule again. Peter tried to say as much to Wade, but a particularly hard and well-placed thrust obliterated his train of thought. And Peter honestly didn’t really mind.

    [We better not get in trouble for this,] White muttered.

    {Shut up and enjoy the – _oh my god_ , make him do that again!}

    “Do that again,” Peter pleaded, and Wade obliged, rolling his hips. “I, _oh_ …” Peter blinked at the wall, words disappearing from his mind.

    “Peter,” Wade whispered, “please, _please_. Don’t scare me like that again. I only just got you back, baby boy.”

    Peter tried to reply, but words jumbled up in his head and his lips moved wrong. Garbled moans were all that he could force from his throat.

    {He’s so _sweet_!}

    [If he’d stop holding on so tight, I could maybe agree.]

    “Let… Me… Come,” Peter whined, trying to reach down and pry Wade’s fingers off his cock, but Wade didn’t let him move enough to reach it. “Wade!”

    “You need to promise me,” Wade said, his voice a low groan. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you _won’t_ _play with Loki_.”

    [No can do, lover boy.]

    {It’s gonna be so much fun!}

    “Boring,” Peter gasped. “We’re knife-bros. Best buds. It’ll be fu– _uh_ –n.” He stopped trying to speak, rocking back onto Wade’s cock.

    Wade huffed against the back of his neck. “Baby boy, please.” His teeth flashed along the sensitive skin. “I _need_ you to stay safe this time.”

    Peter snorted, the sound ending in a low groan. “Safe,” he repeated, breathless. “A foreign – _oh fuck_ – concept.”

    “This time it won’t be,” Wade said, swearing into the crook of Peter’s neck when Peter arched back and clenched. “I am going to take _care_ of you, Petey. This time, I promise.”

    “Don’t make promises you can’t _keep_ ,” Peter replied. Wade’s grip faltered around Peter’s cock, and they came together with a harsh groan.

    They were silent except for the sound of their breathing. Peter felt a shiver run down his spine when Wade’s lips caressed the skin along his shoulder, breath huffing from his nose. The feeling of the scars shifting against Peter’s back made his hips twitch involuntarily.

    “I can keep that promise,” Wade said, voice barely a whisper. “Don’t you tr – don’t you believe me?”

    [Damn straight we don’t fucking trust you.]

    Peter nudged Wade, getting his arms under him and pushing them both up with an ease that startled him. “It’s not that I don’t believe you,” he finally said, after balancing himself on one arm, Wade’s heavy warmth still hanging on his back. “It’s more that I don’t think you’re up to the challenge.”

    Wade’s rough hands circled around his biceps. “You think you’re too much for me?”

    “I _know_ I am,” Peter replied easily. “Wade, as much as I’d really like this to be a permanent thing, even you can’t deny that people _leave me_. That’s what they do – that’s what I do to people. I make them want to leave.”

    {Doesn’t matter if it’s just walking away or dying,} Yellow muttered.

    [Or going crazy and trying to kill you.]

    “I don’t _know_ how to be with you,” Peter said, grateful that Wade couldn’t see his face. “Not like… Not like you _deserve_. I don’t know _how_ to be the perfect person for you, because I am many things, Wade, but _perfect_ isn’t one of them. Unless you’re referring to my skills of killing, which _are_ perfect. And something I can’t exactly brag about in present company.”

    Wade sighed against his skin. “I don’t want you to be _perfect_ ,” he murmured. “Baby boy, I just want _you_.”

    “But I’m not good for you,” Peter insisted.

    [We’re not good for anyone. And _you’re_ not good for us.]

    {Oh shush! Wade’s the best thing that’s happened to us since… Since…}

    “Since Uncle Ben,” Peter said quietly. He tried not to mention his uncle – his death was truly the beginning of the end for Peter, and the beginning of his misery.

    Wade pulled away. “That wasn’t your fault.”

    Peter shook himself, and Wade rolled gracefully off him. “You can’t know that,” Peter replied, spinning around to face Wade, ignoring the cum trickling down the inside of his thigh. “You don’t know what happened.”

    “Because you don’t talk about it,” Wade pointed out, raising a hand to forestall Peter’s reply. “I’m not saying we need to talk about it. I’m not suggesting it’s something we should do right now. But I made the rules for a reason, Peter, and I just want to help.”

    [Fuck him. He wants to _change_ us.] White made a noise of disgust. [He’s just like the rest of them.]

    {He _said_ he wants us! As we are!}

    [Lies.]

    {How the fuck do you know? You’re just sour because _you_ trusted him and got hurt.}

    [Just you watch, he’ll fucking betray us again and you’ll realize I was right all along.]

    “Peter?” Wade said.

    Peter hummed in response. “The boxes are arguing,” he murmured. “White says you want to change us, like the Avengers. Yellow’s yelling that he’s wrong.”

    A warm hand caught his jaw, and Peter blinked at Wade’s face. “You don’t need to change,” Wade whispered fiercely. “I don’t want you to change. You know how many people I’d have to shoot at if you changed? They’d all be trying to get into your pants if they found out what you’re _really_ like! You’re _mine_.”

    The last sentence was a possessive growl that made Peter’s stomach tremble.

    {Oh my god, that was _hot_.}

    [So now we’re just a possession?]

    {White, shut up,} Yellow said pleasantly.

    “I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine,” Peter sang, twining his fingers with Wade’s.

    Wade’s answering smile was sweet. “Baby boy, I’ll always be yours.”

    [I think now is a perfect time to tell him that he broke his own rules,] White said.

    “Shut up!” Peter exclaimed.

    {Seriously!}

 

* * *

* * *

  

    The next time Peter saw Loki, it was in a completely different room at the other end of the Tower. Needless to say, neither of them were expecting to see each other – Peter was certainly not expecting to see the god with an eerily familiar staff that glowed blue.

    {Okay. So. Question. If the staff’s not green, does that mean it’s not evil?}

    “The staff itself isn’t evil,” Peter muttered. “It’s how it’s _used_. And can I just say: Oooh, _shiny_!”

    He was surprised when the god didn’t reply – he was even more surprised when said god pressed the tip of the staff against his chest with a cold, cruel smirk.

    Peter looked up at Loki with a grin when the god pulled the staff away, looking inexplicably satisfied. “Hey, I could totally hear you! ‘Come to the Dark Side, Luke!’”

    [Look, another Star Wars reference.]

    {You can’t say them if you don’t like them!}

    Loki’s forehead creased as the boxes began to laugh. He glanced wordlessly down at the staff, and then back at Peter.

    “That was real sweet of you, but my head is already crowded, I don’t need another voice all up in my grill.” Peter made a shooing motion, and Loki’s expression turned murderous. “Don’t look at me like that, Liesmith. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m already _on_ the Dark Side. Or at least sitting on the edge, throwing tennis balls at the good people jogging passed.”

    {We haven’t done that in _ages_!}

    [We don’t usually use tennis balls.]

    Peter nodded. “Right. Grenades. Now _that_ is fun.” He made explosion noises before looking at Loki with wide eyes. “Ssh, don’t tell Wade!”

    [Idiot, now he’s going to tell Wade.]

    “Don’t call me an idiot! Loki won’t tell Wade – we’re knife bros!” Peter produced one his knives with a flourish.

    “Who, exactly, are you talking to?” Loki asked, finally breaking his frosty, disappointed silence. “And what are ‘knife bros’?”

    Yellow giggled. {We got him to say knife bros!}

    [That was funnier than I thought it would be.]

    “Right, where are my _manners_?” Peter smacked himself on the forehead. “My bad, my bad. I forget it’s polite to introduce yourself to people. Most people who meet me die a horrible painful death – sorry, _used to_ , we don’t do that anymore [ _Much_.] – so I’ve never gotten into the habit of saying, ‘Hey, how are you? I’m the Spider, the bastards in my head are White and Yellow!’”

    {Hey! I resent that.}

    “Oh yeah? Well you’re going to love this next bit. White is the too serious fella, always bringing down the mood. Yellow is an idiot, a moron, generally stupid and _such_ a perv it’s not even funny anymore.” Peter grinned and stared at Loki, waiting for a reaction.

    “You are insane,” Loki said slowly.

    Peter gasped. “No, really? Hey guys, hear that? The god thinks we’re insane!”

    [We are.]

    {We were so nice about it too.}

    “Yeah, we totally were. And nice is totally not my style.” Peter cleaned underneath his nails. “This has been a lovely chat, but I have better things to be doing.”

    “Oh?” the Trickster asked, raising a thin black brow.

    Peter nodded. “Yep.” He turned away, slipping his knife back into its hidden sheath. Something occurred to him. “Oh right. I forgot to say something.”

    Loki looked politely interested. That expression changed to something like disgust when Peter dropped to all fours and scuttled towards him, reaching up to grip the front of Loki’s collar and drag himself upright. Peter made sure to get really close to Loki’s face.

    “If you kill Wade again,” he said quietly, “I will take great pleasure in ripping you apart.” His voice filled with sinister delight. “Can you imagine? A god, ripped apart by these hands? It’s the stuff of dreams. Specifically, my _wet_ dreams, if you catch my drift.” He winked.

    [That stupid saying again…]

    {Writer lady used it on impulse and cbf changing it…}

    [Lazy.]

    {Bitch.}

    “You won’t have that chance,” Loki hissed.

    Peter shook his head. “No, you just think I won’t. Tricks and lies won’t get you far with me, Silvertongue. I’m not a person, I’m a ticking time-bomb. Tick, tock. Ask Thor.” He smirked. “Oh wait. My bad.”

    “You seem to lack any semblance of self-preservation.”

    Peter grinned. “Go hard or go home, right?”

    “Spider,” Wade said, his voice low and warning and oh _shit_ Peter was in so much trouble. Peter released Loki and turned, an innocent expression on his face.

    “Yes, sweetheart?” Peter replied sweetly.

    [Dude, we are so whipped.]

    {We’re also in _sooooo_ much trouble.}

    [We should leave. Now.]

    Peter affected a gasp. “Was that a puppy I heard crying?” He took a step back, pretending he didn’t see the way Wade’s jaw clenched beneath his mask. “As a reformed mercenary, I must save the poor kitten!” He darted over to the window, giving both the villain and the furious hero a little wave. “K thanks bye!”

    “Puppies and kittens are different animals!” he heard Wade shout at him.

    “They all sound the same to me!” Peter hollered back. “Puppies, kittens, babies, pancakes…”

    [One of these things just doesn’t belong here.]

    {Definitely babies.}

    “Ugh, _babies_ ,” Peter said.

 

* * *

* * *

 

    It was a relief to be out of the Tower. When he’d agreed to help the Avengers and SHIELD, Fury had in turn given him more freedom. Now, for example, he could leave the Tower without fear of being shot at (Fury’s words, not Peter’s – Peter wasn’t scared of little bullets – [ _Lie_.])

    {Wait, wasn’t that a condition as long as we told someone where we were going?} Yellow asked.

    Peter snorted. “We’re not _children_.”

    [Right.]

    {Oh look, a lemonade stand!}

    “Where?” Peter demanded, sticking to the side of the closest building. He peered around critically for a moment. “Yellow!”

    {What? I legit thought I saw one!}

    “You goddamn liar! Now I want lemonade.”

    {Well you suck!}

    “I _know_ , and I do it so _well_!”

    [Not children. _Right_.]

    Peter stuck his tongue out at the boxes, climbing up to the roof of the building. He hauled himself up, settling himself comfortably on the edge, legs dangling in the air. “I still want lemonade,” he muttered.

    {We’re up so high!}

    [We should fall.]

    “That’d be fun for the ten seconds it takes for us to hit the ground,” Peter replied.

    [Sooo…]

    {How about this weather?}

    [Are we going to discuss this new development?]

    “The one where I want lemonade?” Peter asked.

    {You’re giving me cravings, man.}

    [No, you idiots,] White snapped. [ _Wade_.]

    “Don’t say his name like that.”

    [Like what?]

    “Like he’s distasteful.” Peter frowned. “What’s there to talk about?”

    {He’s _so_ nice! He’s putting up with us!}

    [We basically got fucking _married_ , you tools.]

    “We _did_?” Peter leapt to his feet, balancing precariously on the edge. He took no notice, jumping up and down excitedly. “We’re engaged!”

    Yellow shrieked.

    [What part of this is good news?] White shouted. [We’re in _huge_ trouble.]

    “Do I get a ring? Do I need to get Wade a ring? Do you think gold or silver?”

    Yellow was still shrieking.

    [ _Neither_!]

    “I think silver – it’ll bring out his eyes.”

    { _WE’RE ENGAGED!_ } Yellow shrieked.

    [Not the point.]

    “No, see, I think that was entirely your point,” Peter said. “I think that entire conversation made you _very_ uncomfortable. And _that_ makes me _very_ happy.”

    { _WE’RE ENGAGED!_ }

    [That’s not the point!]

    “I think,” Peter continued, “that the thought of us being with Wade scares you because you afraid of commitment.”

    { _WE’RE ENGAGED!_ }

    [I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can we shut that moron up?]

    “You know _exactly_ what I mean,” Peter snapped. “I am _sick_ of you acting like this! Grow the fuck up and _get over it_!”

    {Spidey, Spidey! We’re engaged!}

    [I will stop acting like _this_ when you stop doing stupid shit.]

    Peter sat back down. “You can’t still be mad about the thing with our identity,” he said. “You’re not still salty about that. So what went and died up your ass?”

    [It’s about the trust, Spidey. We _trusted_ him.]

    {And we love him!}

    [We love him, sure, but he’s going to fuck up again. Or, more likely, _we’re_ going to fuck up. That’s the plain and simple truth of it all.]

    “How do you figure?”

    [It’s just what happens,] White said. [We’re all expecting it.]

    {I’m not!}

    [Those of us with a _brain_ are,] White snapped.

    Peter chewed on his lip. “I’m definitely expecting _us_ to ruin it,” he said. “But White, I don’t get what Wade could do that would constitute fucking up.”

    [He could sell us out to the Avengers.]

    “For doing _what_?”

    {We’ve been a good Spider, yes we have.}

    [Yes, but we’re not going to be in a minute.]

    “We’re not?”

    [Nope.]

    {And how do you figure that?} Yellow demanded indignantly.

    [Easy. We know where old man Norman is. And…]

    There was a pregnant pause.

    “We haven’t paid him a visit,” Peter murmured thoughtfully.

    {Holy hell, that’s an _amazing_ point!}

    “We do sort of owe him,” Peter said.

    {Sort of? _Sort of_? Spidey, we owe him and _then_ some!}

    [And we can’t tell Wade about this. Because he’ll try and stop us.]

    {Oh.}

    [Exactly.]

    “Well, we can’t have that,” Peter exclaimed, jumping back up onto his feet.

    [What, are we going now?]

    “Of course.”

    {Um. But Wade –}

    “He doesn’t know, and I have no intention of telling him until after we’ve… visited,” Peter said primly. “That old fucker deserves some private tutoring, and I plan on being _very_ thorough.”

 

* * *

* * *

  

    “Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s down to hell we go,” Peter whispered, silently skirting around the _ridiculous_ amount of guards posted around what served as Norman Osborn’s prison.

    [You know, I’ve said this before,] White began.

    {Did we listen the first time?} Yellow interrupted.

    […No.]

    {Then _sssshhh_.}

    “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” Peter sang, ducking into dark corners and glaring at the guards until they were gone. “What was the cell number?”

    {Oh. We had to remember?}

    [Uh…]

    Peter sighed, and then shrugged. “Whatever. I think it started with a 3… Or was it a 5?”

    [Wasn’t it 3 digits?]

    {Hey, that’s how many fingers we take up the –}

    [Not. Helpful.]

    {But _relevant_.}

    [ _How_?]

    {Can’t you hear the fangirls and fanboys swooning?} Yellow made a purring noise. {Hey there, gorgeouses! Hit me up anytime! I’m free Thursdays and Sundays! You know you want to…}

    [I don’t – how can you – _please_ just shut up.] White sighed.

    “Not going to make this easy and say 353?” Peter dropped down to peer through the little window in the intimidating looking door.

    Crouched on the tiny, uncomfortable bed sat a vaguely human looking… Thing. Peter whistled, low and long, and the figure was his feet, snorting angrily. Peter was completely baffled until he noticed the horns.

    “Oh _hey_ , rhino horns! How much do you reckon those’d sell for on the black market?”

    [Depends how heavy they are.]

    “Huh. Hey, dude, how much do your horns weigh? I think we could make a _nice_ profit for those things…”

    The man snorted in what was probably supposed to be a threatening manner. “I am the Rhino!” he roared.

    {I’m confused. Are we supposed to be impressed?}

    [Spiders are nastier than _rhinos_.]

    “Damn straight,” Peter replied. “Plus, we’re on the other side of the door. Who’s the real winner in this situation? _Me_!” Peter gave the angry rhino man a cheeky wave and skipped down the hall, whistling innocently when he heard a loud crash from behind him.

    [For our readers: Did you know that rhinos can’t change directions once they start charging? And they have trouble stopping once they start.]

    {Also, Aleksei is a _complete_ moron. Hardly a villain. It’s actually really insulting that they label us both villains.}

    “We’re _way_ worse,” Peter agreed in a low voice, leaping back onto the ceiling to avoid the panicked looking guards racing towards the Rhino’s cell. “Or. You know. We _were_.”

    [I think at this point in time we’d count as villains.]

    {Yay!}

    “Oh, how about 456?” He dropped down again to peer through the window and blinked. “Hey, it’s empty?”

    Something very big and green dropped from the ceiling, cold reptilian eyes glaring at Peter. A very long, very gross tongue slipped between the human-ish lizard’s sharp teeth.

    “What is this?” Peter demanded, tapping the glass with a finger. “A fucking zoo? And _lizards_ , man? _Lizards_? What’re you gonna do? Take over the world in a couple of hours? With a body that fucking big, you gotta know you ain’t moving anywhere fast before sundown.”

    [The flaws, readers. The _flaws_!]

    {Hey look, he’s trying to say something!}

    [Think those teeth get in the way?]

    “Sssave mee,” the lizard hissed.

    {Apparently not. I like the hiss, though. Very villain-y.}

    “Sorry, Liz, I’m not into the whole saving people shtick,” Peter said, backing away from the window. “Haven’t signed that shit yet, which is _exactly_ why I’m here. Gotta a lovely bit of payback for one Green Goblin. Know where he is?”

    The lizard tilted his head thoughtfully. “Room 723,” he hissed. “Besssst of luck…”

    “Sweetheart, I don’t need luck. I brought my knives!” Peter giggled and waved at the lizard. “Hey, if I finish up quick, I can _maybe_ help you out. You seem like a pretty cool guy.”

    [Cool. Get it?]

    {Horrible. I’m so disappointed.}

    “Everyone’s a fucking critic,” Peter muttered, pulling himself back onto the ceiling.

    Eventually, he found Room 723 and was gratified to see a weak, pathetic, shrivelled looking Norman Osborn curled up on the pathetic excuse for a bed.

    [He looks bad…]

    {Is he going to survive what we have planned?}

    [Were we planning on letting him live?]

    {Nope!}

    [Awesome.]

    {Radical!}

    “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” Peter called, knocking on the window. Norman moved quickly, his chest heaving as he stared at Peter in shock. Peter gave him a toothy smile, flashing his fangs deliberately. “Hey there, cupcake. I guess it’s my turn now, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I had the first part written for _ages_ , and then I was very lost on where we were going after that and _then_ I remembered good old Norman! Hey buddy, haven't seen you for a bit. That's okay, we'll let Peter play with his knives again!
> 
> Also, I liked making fun of Peter's villains. Zoo guys. They all had a go at being bad guys, but the Avengers took care of them. Real quick.
> 
> Give me life (in the form of comments, please <3) No promises when the next chapter will be up, I'll see how I go :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter _finally_ gets that revenge he's been planning since the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR TORTURE, VIOLENCE, etc. I think this is the worst I've done.
> 
> Pretty graphic stuff, be prepared to never think of "Old McDonald Had a Farm" the same way again.
> 
> I apologize in advance for lack of plot related shiz. It shall happen. Probably.
> 
> *disappears humming "Mad Hatter"*

    “You’re _gone_!” Norman shouted, scrambling to his feet and staggering over to the door. “I _killed_ you! You were erased – destroyed! Like you did to my son! _I killed you_!”

    “Nah, you gave me a lovely month long vacation,” Peter replied sweetly, pulling out a knife and tapping it against the glass. “The boxes were _very_ annoyed with Peter, you know.”

    [Fucking pussy.]

    {Glad he’s gone.}

    [He made us disappear!]

    {Little shit.}

    “And _I’m_ very annoyed with you. Thanks to you, I’m a fucking chocolate swirl cake.” He made a noise of disgust. “I don’t _like_ being a chocolate swirl cake. The swirl _totally_ kills my image, you know.”

    “I _killed_ you,” Norman hissed, frail fist slamming against the little window.

    [You know, I’m sort of surprised his fingers didn’t break or something.]

    {Let’s get in there, Spidey!}

    “You missed,” Peter replied, backing away from the door. “And now? Now, it’s _my_ turn.”

    He leaned back and slammed one of his feet against the door to Osborn’s cell, easily keeping his balance. The metal creaked, groaned, and then caved. The force of his kick sent tingles up his leg, and when he planted his foot back on the ground he registered a dull throbbing.

    Whoops, that felt like broken bones.

    [Never skip leg day, people.]

    {Also never skip squats. You think our ass looks this great because we sit on it all day?}

    [Oh look, Normy’s trying to run.]

    { _Stab him, Spidey_!}

    “How do you like these apples?” Peter shouted, flicking his wrist and pinning Osborn to the wall with a few well thrown knives. “Or, you know. Knives. Not apples.” He tilted his head, tapping his feet as he walked into the cell. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away,” he said.

    [Nah, that’s our crazy.]

    “All eight kinds,” Peter muttered, ripping the important looking machine from Osborn’s chest. “This looks like it’s helping you stay alive,” Peter said, tossing it to the ground and stomping on it. “Whoops, my foot slipped.”

    [We could have kept him alive longer!]

    “Nah, the guards will be on us soon. I don’t have the _time_.” He sighed, trailing gentle fingertips over Osborn’s hollow cheek. “I really wish I did. Guess we’ll just have to make do.”

    {We could always kidnap him!}

    “I think they’d know it was us,” Peter pointed out, replacing his fingers with the point of his knife.

    [No surprises there.]

    “They probably know we’re here already,” Peter added, pressing the point into Osborn’s skin. Blood welled to the surface. “Gives us incentive to be nice and quick.”

    {But I don’t wanna,} Yellowed whined.

    “You think I do?” Peter snapped, stabbing the knife into Osborn’s cheek. “But just because we have to be quick,” Peter continued over the sound of the man screaming, “doesn’t mean we have to be neat, right?”

    White snickered. [We can carve him up like a roast,] he suggested.

    {I like songs!} Yellow said.

    Peter tilted his head, yanking the knife back out. He gave it a sharp flick, the excess blood splattering around the room. He started to hum “Old McDonald Had a Farm”, and pre-emptively webbed Osborn’s mouth shut.

    [ _Yes_ ,] White hissed.

    {Perfect choice!}

    Peter grinned. “You know this song, right Normy? Goes a little something like this: Old man Normy had a body, e-i-e-i-oh. And on that body he had some… Fingernails!” Peter grabbed Osborn’s left hand – his dominant one, as luck would have it – and stretched the man’s fingers out. The noise the fingers emitted made Peter think it had been a long time since they had been straightened.

    [Probably has his hand curled around his _cock_ all the time,] White said viciously.

    {Don’t stop singing, Spidey!}

    “With a tug-tug here,” Peter sang, gripping the first of Norman’s fingernails between his own. He tugged, gently at first, watching the fear in the older man’s eyes grow as he pulled harder and harder. The sound of tearing skin made him smile. “And a tug-tug there.”

    {Pull it out, pull it out,} Yellow chanted.

    “Here a tug,” Peter snarled, ripping the first fingernail off with a savage sort of glee. Osborn let out a muffled scream. “There a tug,” Peter continued, ripping out the next fingernail. “Everywhere a tug-tug!” The next three nails fell to the floor, barely heard over the sounds of Osborn’s muffled pleading.

    “Old man Normy has no fingernails, e-i-e-i-oh.”

    [Fingers next.]

    “Old man Normy had a body, e-i-e-i-oh. And on that body he had some fingers.” Peter dropped Osborn’s left hand in favour of his right. “With a snap-snap here,” index finger first, two breaks, “and a snap-snap there,” middle finger next, also two breaks, “here a snap,” thumb, one break, “there a snap,” pinkie, one break, “everywhere a snap-snap,” ring finger, two breaks.

    “Old man Normy has broken fingers, e-i-e-i-oh.”

    {Slash!} Yellow screamed. Luckily, Peter was well versed in Yellow-speak, and knew exactly what the box was suggesting.

    “Old man Normy had a body, e-i-e-i-oh. And on the body he had some skin.” Peter pulled a knife from the wall. Osborn’s left arm fell limply to his side – the man was barely standing.

    [Can’t handle a little pain, Normy?] White sneered.

    “With a slash-slash here, and a slash-slash there,” Peter sang, letting his knife bite into Osborn’s paper-like skin. “Here a slash, there a slash, everywhere a slash-slash.” The amount of blood covering the floor, turning it slick and warm, was dizzying.

    {This is great! Oh wait, I think he’s sleeping.}

    Peter jerked his head up, eyeing the older man’s face critically. “I know something that’ll wake you up,” he murmured, and jabbed his knee into Osborn’s balls. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide in pain. “Morning!” Peter chirped. “Have a nice nap?”

    [We were in the middle of singing.]

    {I can’t remember where we were up to!}

    “I suppose we’ll just have to start from the beginning,” Peter said with nasty smile. So he did just that, peeling the fingernails from Osborn’s right hand and snapping the fingers on his left (2-2-1-1-2), and then slashing again.

    “Old man Normy has less skin, e-i-e-i-oh!”

    Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin, stared at Peter blankly, eyes unfocused. The sound of his breaths rattling in his chest was hardly louder than the sound of his blood dripping onto the floor. He looked more than a little worse for wear – Peter had been liberal with the amount of force he used with his knife, and there were a few slashes that actually went down to the bone.

    All in all, Peter thought he’d done a good job for the seven or so minutes he’d been in Osborn’s cell.

    “How are you feeling, Normy?” Peter asked, poking the barely conscious man in the forehead. “Need another little wakeup call?”

    The man groaned in response.

    [Well. He’s not dead.]

    {Yet!}

    “Yellow’s right… We haven’t finished the song. Next verse, fellas?”

    [We could do the ‘had a son’ verse,] White suggested.

    Peter giggled. “Old man Normy had a son, e-i-e-i-oh. And on that son he had high hopes. With a bad decision here and a bad decision there.”

    {The next bit doesn’t fucking work!}

    “What a letdown. But…” Peter grinned, leaning closer to the bleeding man. “Now old man Norman has no son,” he sang softly. “E-i-e-i-oh.”

    Osborn had gone from barely conscious to glaring. His eyes promised nasty things, but with the state his body was in – not to mention the fact that Peter isn’t _quite_ finished with him – none of them are going to hold their breath in the hopes that he could _deliver_.

    “Old man Normy had a life, e-i-e-i-oh,” he sang softly, twirling his knife in his fingers, ignoring the little nicks he inevitably got because he was paying more attention to the way Osborn’s eyes flickered in fear, the way his chest heaved as his breathing grew rougher, faster, than he was to where his knife was at any given point.

    “And in that life,” Peter continued, licking his lips when his eyes caught the way Osborn swallowed, “he had a _heart_.”

    [We could do a _ripping_.]

    {Or a tearing!}

    [Squish-squish here.]

    {Stomp-stomp there.}

    [Here a squeeze.]

    {There a smush.}

    “With a stab-stab here,” a little to the left of his heart, just deep enough to make Osborn’s eyes widen in horror. Yes, this would not be too quick. “And a stab-stab there.” This time, to the right. “Here a stab,” above, “there a stab,” below, “everywhere a stab-stab!” Above-below.

    Peter hadn’t had this much fun in _ages_. Osborn’s legs had collapsed a while ago, and while Peter didn’t remember exactly _when_ that had happened, he’d apparently at least partially noticed because the man – his prey, he thought, shivering in delight – was hanging from his wrists, webbed to the wall.

    “Old man Normy had a heart, but now it’s fucking _mine_.”

    Peter pressed his fingers into the bleeding holes, making soothing noises as Osborn coughed up blood all over him. He kept pressing until he could feel Osborn’s heart shuddering against his fingertips.

    [{Pop!}] the boxes chorused, and Peter squeezed Osborn’s heart.

    He wasn’t given any time to really enjoy his revenge – his spider sense tingled a warning, his ears catching the faint sound of near silent footsteps.

    Peter whirled around with a snarl. Loki faltered to a stop.

    [Someone followed us.]

    {How much do you think he saw?}

    [Enough to know that we’re _really_ not on the good side.]

    “We already told him that,” Peter said, absently licking a bit of blood from his lips. He rolled the taste around his mouth for a moment. “The good side is for hypocrites, ass kissers and genuinely good guys. Since we fall under none of this categories, we’re not on the good side.”

    {We would _totally_ kiss Wade’s ass.}

    “Of course we would. But I’m referring to the serial ass kissers, which you _know_.” Peter pulled himself into a standing position, strolling leisurely towards Loki. “Can I help you, Loki?”

    Loki tilted his head. “Are you not going to clean up your mess?” he asked, waving a hand at Osborn’s corpse still webbed to the wall.

    [Do we look like the cleanly type?]

    “Well, no,” Peter said. “I was actually going to get all artistic before you _interrupted_.” He frowned. “I _hate_ being interrupted.”

    {Kill him, kill him.}

    “What are _you_ doing out of the Tower, by the by?” Peter asked, sliding his knives back into their respective sheaths. He inspected his fingers, making a pleased noise when he saw that the wounds had healed.

    “I followed you,” Loki replied easily.

    “I got that, Trickster,” Peter muttered, looking at the blood covering his clothes.

    {We can’t go back to Wade like _this_!}

    Peter hummed in agreement, and walked over to the dresser tucked into the corner. He yanked it open, scoffing at the armada of rich, dark suits that lay within.

    [You know, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to fold suits.]

    {This is a prison! How did he get his clothes in here?}

    “Money may not buy you happiness,” Peter murmured, “but it _does_ get you a lot of things.” He pulled out a crisp black shirt and black slacks.

    {We look good in black!}

    [Not as good as we look in spandex. Are we ever going to wear the suit again?]

    {I think writer lady is thinking about giving us a new suit.}

    [Lemme guess – Venom.]

    {Black _and_ spandex. Hotness squared!}

    Peter pulled off his bloody shirt, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor, and slid his arms into the shirt sleeves. He buttoned the shirt up, humming a little at the feel of it on his skin – maybe it was about time he spent some of his money on clothes.

    [Instead of, you know, stealing.]

    {But stealing’s fun! And we almost get caught sometimes! It’s a sweet adrenalin rush.}

    “Yellow has a point,” Peter said. “Sometimes, the chase is the best bit.” He changed his pants too, slipping his Converse back onto his feet. “Now I feel a little like Ten,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders.

    [Blue, not black.]

    “I _loved_ that suit,” Peter said wistfully, stepping past Loki to peer outside. Somehow, the guards hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Even if he _had_ only been in there ten minutes, he would have expected _someone_ to notice _something_. “Don’t get me wrong, Eleven was my _baby_ , but the suit? The suit and the hair, man.” Peter sighed, and then looked suspiciously at Loki. “Where are the guards?” he asked.

    Loki smiled, sharp and cold like the edge of a knife. “I took care of them,” he said.

    Peter’s jaw dropped. “You did _what_ now? What do you mean, you took care of them?”

    He didn’t wait for an answer – he scuttled out from Osborn’s cell and down the hall. It didn’t take him long to find the first body. He stopped, hissing in displeasure at the sight.

    [Well fuck.]

    {There go the plans.}

    “Out the fucking window,” Peter snarled.

    [What the fuck do we do?]

    {Tell on Loki.}

    “Wade gave Princess a week.”

    [Besides, we did say we could keep a secret,] White pointed out. [You really want to give everyone another reason to distrust us?]

    {Well, it was only Loki, Stark and _Wade_ in the room with us.} Yellow paused. {Oh shit, Wade was there!}

    [I vote we break every bad ass out of here and blame it on them.]

    “Then it’s still _our_ fault,” Peter hissed.

    “I do not understand,” Loki said from behind him. “I thought their deaths would matter very little to you.”

    Peter scoffed. “I don’t care that they’re dead.”

    “On the contrary, it seems you very much do.”

    Peter whirled, slamming a fist into the wall beside Loki’s head. The god didn’t move. “What I care about,” Peter snarled, “is that fact that _I_ will be the one getting blamed for this. No one but Stark and Wade know you’re still _here_ , and the stupid do-gooders with their stupid big heads are going to realize it was _me_ who killed Osborn.

    “That means that, in their little minds, _I’m_ the one who killed these people.” Peter took a second to look around. “Which is, frankly, insulting. I’m so much more _creative_.”

    “I don’t see what the problem is. You very much enjoy killing.”

    [I want to smack him.]

    { _Of course we like killing_!}

    “Shut up,” Peter hissed. “The problem, Loki, is that I _didn’t_ kill them. You may have noticed, in fact, that I killed no one. Apart from Osborn, but he had it coming so hard. I _owed_ the fucking prick. What bothers me is that I was planning to do this whole thing _stealth_. Which really shouldn’t be a foreign concept to you, given how much fucking time you spend fucking _invisible_. You just _ruined_ everything!”

    [What bothers us is the fact that we can’t come out and tell the Avengers about you!]

    {Because Wade promised!}

    [Shit, yes, okay!] White shouted. [Because Wade fucking promised!]

    Peter jerked back from Loki. “What’s this? You’ve _finally_ seen the light?”

    [Shut up,] White grumbled.

    {We love Wade, we love Wade!}

    “Come on, White,” he said teasingly, nudging a body out of his path as he moved closer to the exit. “Let me hear you say it!”

    White grumbled wordlessly. [We love Wade,] he finally said, sounding very unenthusiastic.

    {At least he said it!}

    Peter fist-pumped. “Hell yes! We love Wade! Glad everyone is on board again. Now,” he continued, spinning to observe the hall with narrowed eyes, “what are we going to do about this?”

    [Call in the cavalry?]

    {We don’t have a cavalry,} Yellow pointed out.

    Peter got an idea. “Brace yourselves, boys,” Peter murmured.

    [For?]

    {What?}

    **_“Mimic!”_**

 

* * *

* * *

  

    {Owwwwwww,} Yellow complained.

    [Jesus fucking Christ,] White snarled. [What the fuck?]

    Peter grinned. “You know, Mimic did say she didn’t think she had a limit,” he said.

    [And _this_ is how you decided to test that theory?] White sounded incredulous.

    “That was quite a scream, Spider,” Loki said, wincing only a little. “Do you really think she will hear you?”

    Peter shrugged. “Only time will tell,” he replied. With all the time Loki had spent in the Tower, it was inevitable that he would have come across Mimic. Now that he thought about it… “It’s your fault, isn’t it?”

    He had a feeling he’d be saying that to the god more often than not. Or, maybe not _him_ , but _people_. Like Princess. Maybe even Thor, when everyone decided keeping secrets was a Very Bad Thing.

    The god tilted his head questioningly, but there was the faintest smirk across his narrow face that told Peter Loki probably knew what he was talking about. And that… That was actually kind of refreshing.

    “You’re why Mimic gets blank moments from Princess’ head.” Peter shrugged. “Usually, I’d say it’s just his head, you know, but he’s _not_ stupid. It wouldn’t be fun if he was stupid. But you blocked off thoughts, right? The ones about you, anyway.”

    “I don’t see why you’re giving him all the credit,” Loki all but purred. “You’re not too stupid either.”

    [Score one for insanity.]

    Peter grinned, a sharp flash of teeth that was there and gone in a moment. “Aren’t you sweet,” he replied. “That’s how I figured out you were here,” Peter said. “Or, at the Tower anyway.”

    Loki laughed. “Clever mortal.”

    [Didn’t he have his staff back?]

    {Yeah! Where did the glowy blue stick of doom vanish to anyway?}

    Peter hummed. “Good point. Where’s the staff? I would have figured you’d keep it on you after you got it back.”

    “I didn’t ‘get it back’,” Loki replied, examining his pale fingers. “I borrowed it back for a short duration of time.”

    Peter tilted his head. “You don’t want it back permanently?”

    Loki’s eyes were hard and glittery when he looked up to glare squarely into Peter’s eyes. “No,” he replied.

    [I sense a very big deal there.]

    {Loki has _issues_!}

    [They’re probably not as good as ours…]

    “Hey, issues are issues,” Peter snapped. “We don’t discriminate.”

    {Discrimination is bad for business!}

    “Exactly! You remember that one guy who hired us, the one in the wheelchair? And you were all like, ‘We’re not going to help a guy who can’t even stand on his own two feet’ and then Yellow laughed like the idiot he is – {Hey!} – and then I told you to shut the fuck up, because money is money and killing is killing.”

    [But then we went and killed that kid with… What was it?]

    {Some kinda cancer?}

    Peter nodded. “Exactly my point, White. I don’t discriminate. I am _lovely_ like that.”

    [I think that depends on which side of the knife you stand on,] White muttered.

    “It’s not like we went out and hate-killed the kid,” Peter said, tossing around with the idea of ripping a head off to play soccer with. He wondered if Loki knew what soccer was.

    [Don’t do it, we just got these pants! They feel really nice.]

    {How old was she, anyway?}

    Peter wrinkled his nose. “You’re asking for the wrong details, Yellow. I don’t give a shit how old she was – do you even know how much suffering I saved her from? Plus, the amount of money we got in return?” He whistled. “That was when we bought that penthouse in that fancy-schmany place I can never remember the name of.”

    {Oh I remember! The one with the hot tub!}

    [Right, it had that awesome balcony.]

    “And so much space,” Peter said dreamily. “I could have had _two_ labs in there…”

    [Are you saying we’re still paying for that place?]

    Peter scratched his head. “Maybe?”

    [What about all the other places we bought?]

    {How many places _have_ we bought?}

    [More to the point: _why are we still at the Avengers Tower?_ ]

    {Huh. He has a point. And it’s not like we can’t take Wade with us.}

    [We should mention this to him. When we go back. After all this shit is cleared up.]

    Peter gazed around. “There is a lot of shit to clean up,” he agreed.

    Loki tilted his head. “Are you mocking my technique?”

    “Hey, whoa, don’t sound so offended!” Peter rolled his eyes. “Some people,” he muttered.

    {Take a joke!}

    [Don’t be such a tight ass.]

    “But he has got a tight ass,” Peter said, shuffling around to peer at said ass. He hummed. “Very pert.”

    “Is this how you get people to sleep with you?” Loki asked dryly. “Insulting their killing methods and then complimenting their behinds?”

    [Maybe we should try that sometime.]

    {I give it a 5 out of 10.}

    Peter snorted. “And what do you know of picking up techniques?” he demanded. “You’ve picked up as many people as I have!”

    “I most certainly have not!”

    “I wasn’t talking to you!”

    “There is no one else here!”

    “I already introduced you to White and Yellow!”

    “They aren’t _real_!”

    “They’re real enough to be very offended by this current yelling match!”

    Loki made a frustrated sound. “You are delusional!”

    Peter cocked his head. “ _Maybe_. Just a little.”

    [I don’t like him anymore.]

    {I am a real boy!}

    [How dare he insinuate we’re not real?]

    {My nose isn’t growing, it must be true!}

    [You don’t have a nose!]

    Yellow sobbed. {Why do you have to ruin my dreams?}

    Peter shot Loki a nasty look. “Now, see? Look at what you’ve done! I _hate_ it when Yellow cries- he’s such a _fucking_ baby.”

    Yellow wailed. {Don’t hate me, Spidey!}

    [Shut him up!]

    “You shut him up!” Peter shouted.

    [I want to stab him.]

    “We can’t stab him, he doesn’t have a body.”

    [He’s in _your_ head.]

    “I’m not stabbing myself in the head to shut him up.”

    [He’ll only get more annoying!]

    “Yes, and _I_ might _die_ ,” Peter replied. “Besides, he’s annoying you more than me.”

    Yellow cried in the background.

    Peter heard the sound of footsteps approaching and leapt up into the ceiling, going still and silent. He didn’t to turn around to sense Loki vanish – he felt the tingle of magic in the air behind him. Even Yellow quietened, hiccupping every now and then.

    “No, please,” Mimic called dryly, stepping over the bodies in her path like she didn’t even notice them, “don’t stop that _riveting_ argument. I can’t wait to see how it ends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave me a comment, I live on that shit. Plus I've been hella sick lately (for me, anyway), so I sort of need them at the moment. To, you know, fight off the sickness.
> 
> *Readers used Comment! It was super effective*
> 
> (Do I need to change the rating again...? Or is Mature okay?)


	9. Chapter 9

   “Mimic!” Peter exclaimed. He dropped from the ceiling, bouncing over to the girl. “You didn’t have any trouble sneaking out of the Tower?”

    She smirked. “You’re not the only one who’s good at sneaking.”

    [But you _cheat_.]

    {Cheater!} Yellow was, apparently, over his little crying fit already. Peter was just glad it hadn’t ended a complete and utter meltdown.

   “I do _not_ cheat,” Mimic replied, miffed. “I simply use my talents to my advantage.”

    [Semantics.]

    “Big word for you,” Peter said, giggling.

    “I’m impressed,” Mimic said, looking around. “This is… I’m struggling to think of another word other than _impressive_.”

    {It also wasn’t us.}

    Mimic whipped her head around to stare at him with wide red eyes. “Huh?”

    Peter spread his hands. “Yellow speaks the truth. I came here for Norman.” He jerked a finger in the direction of Norman’s cell. “Sneaky Spider in, Sneaky Spider out, everyone’s happy.”

    [Except the guy who has to clean up the mess we made.]

    {Art, White. It was _art_!}

    Peter started humming ‘Old McDonald’ again. “No one rushes _art_ ,” he said spitefully. “I didn’t even get to finish properly!”

    “If _you_ didn’t do _this_ ,” Mimic said, gesturing to the bodies littered around them. “Who did?”

    [That would be Loki.]

    {The invisible douchebag over that-a-way.}

    [I thought we were knife-bros.]

    {He has offended us.}

    “He rejected the advances of a fellow knife-bro and now must face the consequences.” Peter shook his head sadly.

    Mimic folded her arms across her chest. “You’re lying. Loki wouldn’t follow you just to kill these people.”

    Peter gasped. “We’re not lying! Loki, get your stupid butt out here so Mimic stops accusing _me_ of lying!”

    He heard a sigh, and then Loki released whatever glamour he had going on. Mimic blinked, Peter pouted, and Loki looked bored.

    {See? Not lying!}

    [Very much not lying. Although we’re all very offended you didn’t believe us.]

    “Why would I _lie_?” Peter whined. He watched Mimic walk slowly over to the god, her expression unreadable.

    [I sense something amazing is about to happen.]

    {I feel all tingly,} Yellow agreed.

    Mimic slapped Loki. Hard. The sound echoed down the hall. Peter’s mouth fell open. The ceiling gasped. The floors tittered.

    Okay. Maybe the last two didn’t happen. But Peter was sure that if ceilings and walls could react, that would be what they did. Or maybe screaming because _oh my god_ , Mimic just slapped Loki.

    “That actually happened, right?” Peter stage-whispered.

    {Yes!}

    [Oh yes. Mimic apparently has even less self-preservation than we do.]

    {Are we going to make her a trophy then?}

    “I can’t believe you,” she snapped, glaring up at the god, who looked just as flabbergasted as Peter. “You were my favourite villain, you know. You were so suave and cool and _bad ass_ , what with the alien army, and then you just went and _ruined_ it.”

    [What? I thought _we_ were your favourite villain?]

    {We have been betrayed! Again!}

    Peter made his bottom lip tremble. “Mimic, I thought you loved us,” he said, voice quivering.

    “You came back, and you went to _fucking Stark_ ,” Mimic continued, her voice dropping to a low hiss. “Of all the Avengers you could have gone to, you picked _Stark_. And then. And then! You had the brilliant idea of _sleeping with him_?”

    [She totally has a point.]

    “Yeah, what’s up with that?” Peter asked.

    {He’s too short.}

    “Ridiculous face-hair.”

    [Fucking _attitude_.]

    “Annoying little shit,” Peter summed up.

    “So do you want to explain yourself, Loki, or should I just rip into your head and find out for myself?”

    [{Can she _do_ that?!}]

    “Hooo, boy,” Peter said. “That’s _mean_ , Mimic. I’m totally impressed.”

    “You taught me well,” she replied, her eyes still glued to the god. She poked him in the chest. “Well? What’s it going to be?”

    [We taught her?]

    {I think we helped her flay Becket?}

    [That was _once_ , and it doesn’t count. He lived.]

    {So…}

    [I guess this head really is a toxic place.]

    “Well you two sure don’t help,” Peter said.

    Loki had finally picked his jaw up off the floor. “You foolish mortal,” he began, but Mimic rolled her eyes and huffed, and he trailed off uncertainly.

    [Welcome to the terrifying creature called the teenage girl,] White muttered.

    “I heard that,” Mimic snapped.

    “It wasn’t me!” Peter squeaked.

    {Me either!}

    “Don’t try and tell me you two don’t agree with him.”

    “Um.”

    {Well…}

    [Busted.]

    “Continue yelling at Loki now, please and thank you!” Peter said.

 

* * *

* * *

 

     “So why, exactly, did you call me?” Mimic asked some time later. She’d spent a good few minutes yelling at Loki, and the god had grown sullener and sullener the longer this went on. “Where you expecting me to actually _do_ anything?”

    “Well,” Peter replied, “I just thought that now might be a good time to see if you _did_ have a range.”

    [Which, apparently, you don’t.]

    {You’re welcome!}

    Mimic sighed. “No plan?”

    Peter made a horrified sound. “I _never_ plan! It’s so _boring_. How do people do it?”

    [They probably think really hard. Something you don’t do so well.]

    “Come at me bro,” Peter muttered, pouting.

    {We could all just run away?} Yellow suggested. {We’ve always been great at running away from our problems.}

    “Wade,” Mimic said.

    {Oh yeah!}

    [Take him with us?]

    “And have him as an accessory?”

    “Better than leaving him behind.” Mimic raised her hands when Peter glared at her. “It’s the truth, and you know it.”

    [We could just hand Loki over. Knock him out… Mimic got in one good hit, why can’t we?]

    {And what a fucking hit it was!}

    [I literally _just_ said that.]

    Peter scratched his head. “We can’t do that. Wade gave Princess a week, remember?”

    [Week-shmeek. Hang the asshole out to dry.]

    {Oh look, another saying we don’t get.}

    Peter snorted. “There’s lots of them. Stop pointing them out.” He finally shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “I guess I don’t really care? As long as Wade knows the truth.”

    Loki looked very put out. “So you _are_ willing to take the blame?”

    “I’m not _willing_ … It’s just I don’t see another way for this to go without me running away.” Peter shrugged again. “Gotta learn when to run and when to stay sometime.”

    [This is not the time to stay.]

    {Seconded.}

    “Thirded. Spidey, no offense, but this is one of the stupider things you’ve done.” Mimic crossed her arms. “There has to be another way.”

    [That was rude.]

    {At least we didn’t get slapped,} Yellow said.

    “Slap her straight back,” Peter muttered. He perked up, pulling a knife from one of the many sheaths on his person. “Hey Loki, want to knife fight?”

    Loki still had a hand on his cheek. “No,” he replied shortly, green eyes narrowed balefully at Mimic, who was looking at the bodies littering the hall with none of the disgust Peter would have expected.

    Then again, she _had_ been in Hydra’s employ. Maybe dead bodies had been a popular choice for decorating.

    {A La Dead Man.}

    [Say what now?]

    {How dare Loki turn us down!}

    [No, no. Go back. What?]

    {I mean, we’re knife bros! It was decided!}

    [Don’t ignore me.]

    “Ignore White, ignore White,” Peter chanted quietly, lazily flicking out a web. The end caught on a body further up the hall. He dragged it towards him with idle strength.

    {PAINT THE HALL RED!} Yellow screamed.

    “No,” Mimic said.

    Yellow whimpered. {Come _onnnnn_! It’ll be fun!}

    “Like Christmas,” Peter added. “We do red on Christmas, right?”

    [Yes, red is Christmas. No, we should not paint the hall red.]

    {Why not?} Yellow whined.

    [Because then they’ll definitely think it was us.]

    “That bit _would_ be us.”

    Loki huffed out a noise. “Refrain from talking to yourself,” he snapped.

    Peter grinned. “ _Make me_.”

    Peter barely had time to feel the shiver of his spider sense before Loki lunged at him. Peter slipped to the side, laughing when the god threw a ball of green fire at him. Loki gave a frustrated growl, throwing a knife at Peter. He barely managed to dodge, and stared at the knife as it thudded into the wall, silver handle shaking with the force of the throw.

    “I’m getting ideas!” Peter exclaimed. He dipped his fingers into a nearby pool of blood – ew, cold blood felt _gross_ , and it was all sticky and congealing… He much preferred it when it was warm and slick, sliding across his skin as he tore into someone’s chest. Or stomach.

    You get the idea.

    “What are you doing?” Mimic asked.

    “Loki and I are going to throw knives at apples!” Peter explained. He drew an apple on the wall with the blood and gesture to it. “See?”

    [Hardly any distance.]

    {Yeah, the hall’s not the fucking wide.}

    “Hashtag drive-by,” Peter said.

    [Oh.]

    {Fun!}

    “What do you say, Loki?” Peter asked, twirling to face the very annoyed god. “Wanna throw knives at apples?”

    “I would rather throw knives at _you_ ,” Loki hissed.

    [Yeah, cool story bro.]

    {Needs more dragons!}

    “And _I’d_ rather throw knives at something living,” Peter replied. “But you killed everyone, and if I throw knives at you I’m not a very good knife-bro, am I? And I can’t throw knives at Mimic, because she’ll be able to dodge before I even throw it.”

    [Which is just _no_ fun.]

    “If you throw knives at me, I’ll do the same. I’m a ninja. Dodging is my specialty.”

    “I thought killing was,” Mimic muttered, still looking around the hall like she’d expected something to change.

    [We’re less of a singular specialist.]

    “More of a Jack of all trades kinda deal,” Peter agreed.

    {With a hack-hack here,} Yellow sang.

    “And a slash-slash there.”

    [Here a kill, there a kill.]

    “Everywhere a scream-scream.”

    Mimic laughed. “You’re ridiculous,” she said fondly. “I think I have an idea.”

    Peter perked up, licking the blood from his fingers. “Oh?” he asked. “Share with the rest of us?”

 

* * *

* * *

 

     “This is a horrible plan,” Loki said. Peter noticed that Loki was standing as far away from Mimic as possible, sharp green eyes focused on the back of her head as she fiddled with the buttons in front of her.

    “Funny, I was thinking the same thing!” Peter exclaimed.

    [Me too.]

    {Me three!}

    [You’re number four, idiot.]

    {Shut up, you just live to suck the joy out of everything!}

    “None of you had a better idea,” Mimic snapped. “Don’t make me hit you.”

    The three of them were in the control centre, staring at the mass of buttons that Mimic guessed released the current occupants in the prison. The plan was relatively simple – make it look like the inmates had escaped and killed all the guards.

    It had taken them maybe ten minutes to find the control room – and Peter was well aware that it wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities that someone had realized something was happening and had called in the police. Or SHIELD. Or the Avengers. So he _knew_ there was no time to think something else up.

    “I expected you to come up with a better plan,” Peter said. “You were my ace.”

    [Guess what we’re doing never again?]

    {Eat that hot and spicy gross stuff from Taco Bell? That gave us the runs for a week!}

    Peter wrinkled his nose at the memory. “Taco Bell can eat shit. _Wade’s_ tacos are a million times better. So,” he continued, poking at one of the buttons without actually pressing it, “we’re really doing this?”

    “This is a _horrible_ plan,” Loki repeated.

    [Man, this is all his fault.]

    {He should have come up with a plan.}

    [Puny god.]

    {You know, we’ve never seen Bruce Hulk out.}

    “Sounds like a plan,” Peter muttered, “for when we’re allowed to go back.”

    Mimic glanced at him. “You _really_ want to meet the Hulk? What if he doesn’t like you?”

    Peter shrugged. “We’ll find out, won’t we? Who’s pressing the stupid button that says ‘Unlock’? I vote Loki.”

    [Seconded.]

    {Thirded!}

    Mimic nodded. “Loki?” she said, gesturing to the controls.

    Loki sighed but leaned over and pressed the button. Peter watched on the security monitors as door after door slid open. It took hardly a second for the first head to poke out – Peter wasn’t surprised to see it was Liz from room 456.

    He switched on the microphone and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to interrupt your scheduled program with some breaking news – you’re free! If you could all make your way in an orderly fashion to the front exits – the direction of which is indicated by the lovely painted signs along the walls that I painstakingly drew for you – we would be very appreciative. If, however, you find yourself curious as to the identity of your rescuer, please direct your attention to room 723.”

    Peter watched several of the villains move cautiously towards the room. He giggled when the first person to arrive and peer inside – a woman with short brown hair – smiled widely and nodded at the camera in an almost respectful manner. Liz and a several others approached, and a few of them recoiled to throw up along the wall.

    _Weak_. Peter was curious as to _why_ such lily-livered, sorry excuses for villains were in a SHIELD facility in the first place. In particular, he was curious about the mousy little guy with messy hair and glasses. He looked like the kind of guy Peter ate for lunch – not literally, though. More like, he could backhand the poor guy and he’s probable die.

    “ _That_ was me,” Peter said. “If you come anywhere near the control room, I will not hesitate to spend an _obscene_ amount of time with you. The piece of art in room 723? That hardly took me ten minutes.” Peter paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was cold and deadly. “Imagine what I could do with _hours_.”

    [Well, I think we like Liz and that brown haired lady best. They seem less scared than the others.]

    {Yeah, tough cookies… Um?}

    [What?]

    {Room 666. Doesn’t he look a little familiar?}

    [Where’s room 66 – _oh_!]

    Peter glanced at the screens, eyes flicking over until he found who the boxes were talking about. “Mal?” he said, forgetting that the microphone was still on. The figure on the screen went still, and Peter could see his eyes grow wide.

    “What?” Mimic hissed. “I thought he was a normal kid?”

    “Who is this Mal?” Loki asked.

    [Oh boy.]

    {What is he _doing_ here?}

    “Okay, I changed my mind. Liz, I’d be ever so grateful if you could catch the little morsel from room 666 and – oh, look at him run! Liz, I hope you like the chase as much as I do!”

    [Wow, Liz can _move_!]

    {Why is Mal in a villain prison?!}

    “Thank you, Liz! Please bring him to the control room. Everyone else, if anyone asks, you guys killed all the guards. Got it? I need to see some head nods, people, or I’m coming out there with the intention to kill.”

    [I think that guy’s head is about to fall off.]

    “Good. Now send Tony Stark my regards and _fuck off_ ,” he snarled, before flicking the microphone off. He turned to Mimic and Loki with a grin. “I think that went rather well. Don’t you?”

    Before either of them could respond, there was a polite knock on the door. Peter skipped over and pulled it open, grinning up at Liz.

    “Thanks, Liz,” Peter said, snatching a wriggling Mal from the lizard-man’s grasp. Liz’s tail lashed to the side, into the wall, making the room shake.

    “Doctor Curtiss Connorss,” Liz hissed. “That iss my name.”

    [I remember him!]

    {I don’t!}

    [He worked over at Oscorp, doing cross-species genetic stuff with lizards.]

    Peter cocked his head. “If I recall correctly, you used to look more… _human_. And you were missing an arm.” He held Mal in the air, ignoring the half-hearted kicks to his legs.

    Liz – sorry, Doctor Connors – smiled. “I wass working on a cure of Norman Ossborn,” he said. “For hiss illnesss.”

    “The man is dead now,” Mimic said from behind Peter. “So I guess you’re out of a job. And it looks like you fucked up a little with one of your experiments.” Doctor Connors hissed wordlessly, hands making an abortive movement towards Mimic.

    “Uh-uh,” Peter snapped, shaking a finger at the lizard-man. “I don’t think you want to do that, Liz.”

    [Now he’s angry at us.]

    {Come at me bro!}

    “I could be your lover, don’t you want me?” Peter tossed Mal over his shoulder and pulled out his knives. “Why play games with one another. When I only want to hurt you…”

    Doctor Connors took a tiny step back. “You sseem to have masstered the formula. _How_?”

    {What formula?}

    [We’ve made a lot of formulas.]

    “Ones that break… Ones that burn…”

    {Always giving out the pain. We’re nice like that.}

    [Slip it into a drink, some food… But we like _forcing_ better.]

    Peter smiled. “And it’s so _easy_ ,” he muttered, flexing his fingers. He watched the muscles beneath his skin – the cold certainty of their strength sending a shiver down his spine – for a moment before returning his attention to Doctor Connors. “But I have to admit to being confused. What formula?”

    “The formula I wass working on with Richard Parker.”

    Peter went still. “Richard Parker,” he repeated. The boxes were silent.

    “You are hiss sspawn, yess?”

    “That’s just plain rude,” Peter snapped. “Don’t call me spawn, Liz.” He sheathed his knives. “He was my father, but I had nothing to do with his work. My powers were gained by the bite of a radioactive spider at Oscorp. That’s it. A spider bit me, and I was lucky I didn’t die. End of fucking story.”

    “Spidey,” Mimic said warningly.

    [Look at those claws twitch.]

    {You know, I have a feeling he wants to grab us.}

    [Experiments are all the rage these days.]

    “We’d know,” Peter said, nodding his head. “We’ve had enough fun that way.” Peter wagged a finger at Doctor Connors. “No, I won’t come to the lab and play with you. Follow the other villains, Doctor – I have lots of questions for my good friend Mal, and I have no more interest in _you_.”

    With a hiss, the lizard-man reluctantly turned and left. By then, most of the other villains had vanished, and if Peter listened really, really hard, he could hear screaming.

    {Take one for the team you pussies!} Yellow yelled.

    “So,” Mimic said. “This is Mal?”

    Peter eyed the boy standing staring at him with wide brown eyes. “White, you’re _way_ better with faces than me,” he finally whispered. “Is that actually Mal?”

    [Solid 10/10. Yes.]

    {I _told_ you!}

    [No, _I_ told _you_. Remember what I said?]

    {Was it you or was it me?}

    [It was me!]

    {Because _I_ distinctly recall talking about dicks and assholes –}

    “Yes, okay, shut up!” Peter snapped. “Seriously. A straight answer. Too much to ask?”

    [We don’t do straight.]

    {We’re about as straight as… Something that’s _really_ not straight.}

    White sighed. [Moron.]

    {Fucktard!}

    “Oh hey, I like that one! Fucktard.” Peter grinned. “I like the way it just rolls off the tongue.”

    The kid swallowed. “I-I don’t know you.”

    Mimic glared at Peter. “I thought you said you’d met!”

    “We did!” Peter said. “I mean, unless you know of another kid called Mal who likes to point a shotgun at people? Because I only know one, and while there is no shotgun, I’d bet he’d have it pointed at us.”

    [We don’t have the suit on.]

    {He didn’t see our face.}

    “Didn’t we have a rule where people who saw this face died?” Peter mumbled.

    [Oh, that was ages ago.]

    {Before the swirl.}

    Peter wrinkled his nose. “The fucking _swirl_.”

    Mimic clicked her fingers. “Can we focus, please?”

    “I personally believe this would be the perfect time to leave,” Loki said, his voice lazy. “The devices are picking up activity outside this facility.”

    [Company?]

    {Cops or worse?}

    Peter peered at the monitors and cursed. “Let’s hightail it, gang,” he said. “The Avengers have decided to grace us with their presence.” His eyes widened. “And Banner has _Hulked_ out! Woah! I never realized how _big_ he was! And how green! Oh look, here comes that rhino guy!”

    The room was silent as they all watched Banner-Hulk roar and punch rhino-man into the ground. Mal – at least, Peter was pretty sure it was Mal, but _why was he here_? – flinched with each hit, but Loki and Mimic were unfazed.

    Peter giggled. “Oh god, his face! Did you see his face after that first hit?” Peter broke out into fresh laughter.

    {He looked so confused!} Yellow said breathlessly.

    [I can’t believe that wasn’t a one hit KO,] White muttered. [Rhino was tougher than we thought.]

    “But he still got taken down by the Hulk!”

    Loki cleared his throat. “Shall we leave?”

    “Right, right,” Peter agreed easily. “Come along, Ponds!” He started towards the door and then paused.

    [Going on a treasure hunt forgot to mark the spot…]

    Mimic sighed. “Yes, alright. Follow me.” She slipped past him, and Peter grabbed Mal before he could try and run again.

    “Running isn’t your best option here, Mal,” Peter said, skipping along after Mimic. “I mean, I know I don’t look like much, but that sour sausage is _Loki_. And that’s Mimic, she’s pretty fierce all on her own.”

    “H-How do you know my name?”

    [Really? He hasn’t figured it out?]

    {Relax. Some people don’t have our brains.}

    “There is no one with a brain like mine.”

    [But still.]

    {Yeah, something should have clicked.}

    Peter hummed. “Oh, maybe he had his mind wiped? Like in Men in Black?”

    “I don’t know _why_ I’m still following you,” Loki said.

    “Then stay here and get caught by the Avengers,” Mimic snapped from the front. “Through here,” she added, leading them into a darker corridor. “The exit’s just ahead.”

    Peter thought Mimic seemed very annoyed. Which, okay, there was a new person to consider, but Mal wasn’t all that bad.

    [Maybe we should ask.] Peter nodded and opened his mouth. [Not like that, you idiot!]

    _Oh, shut up. Hey, Mimic? You alright?_

    The only warning was an unexpected shriek of his spider sense that had the boxes babbling uselessly. Peter jerked away automatically, but the sting of the needle in his neck was all too familiar.

    There was a shout, and Peter turned with uncoordinated limbs to see that Loki had vanished, and Mal was pinning Mimic to the ground, spitting words at her that had her face turning white. Peter found a wall to lean against, mouth twisted into a snarl as his body tried to fight whatever sedative had been injected into his system.

    And he knew it was a sedative because there wasn’t any pain, just a sort of floaty feeling that made his stomach churn.

    [Get out, get out, get out!] White chanted.

    {Mimic, we have to get Mimic!}

    Peter’s legs shuddered, heart beating loudly enough in his ears to block out whatever Mal was saying to Mimic. He tried to focus, couldn’t. He grabbed for the knife on his ankle, fingers curling around it weakly.

    [Out, out, out!] White repeated.

    {Throw it at Mal! He’s _hurting_ Mimic!}

    Peter looked, focusing his mind through the fuzziness of the sedative to finally realize that Mimic wasn’t turning white from words, but from _pain_. Mal had a knife pressed into Mimic’s shoulder, holding her down.

    The next thing he knew, he was hovered over Mimic, settling for the stability of all four limbs. With the sedative, two limbs were unsteady, unreliable.

    Mal took a step towards him, brandishing a second syringe.

    And that was when the Hulk burst into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. This _did not_ end how I expected. Like. At all. Why is this story trying to kill me?
> 
> Comments are much appreciated, friends! I will not spoil anything, so no asking what's gonna happen ;)
> 
> Also, the next chapter might take a bit. Work has picked up a bit, and as some of you have noticed, I currently have 3-4 works ongoing. So I'm trying to find time to write all of them, but I can't guarantee it'll be in a timely manner.
> 
> Anyways. Hit me up on Tumblr if you want, I'm always happy to chat! And I update on there! (I'm thewitchthetimeladythehuntress on Tumblr!)


	10. Chapter 10

    Peter was far too busy hovering protectively over Mimic and generally trying to stay upright to watch the fight that unfolded. The boxes were absolutely useless, the sedative turning their words into a jumbled scramble that Peter couldn’t help but squint at.

    [Qw agiyks kw4cw,] White said.

    {Rg4r’s a fiid usw4,} Yellow added.

    Peter groaned. “Shut up,” he muttered, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “You’re not making any sense.”

    That’s what he meant to say, anyway. But the sedative was _strong_ , and his lips felt numb, and he had no idea if he’d even made a noise. He shuddered, a decidedly unpleasant crawly feeling running from the crown of his head right down to the ends of his fingers and toes.

    His grip on the knife hadn’t faltered, and when hands entered his field of vision, Peter’s first reacting was to hiss, flashing his fangs in a very clear threat display. When they still kept coming, Peter remembered his knife.

    “Son of a bitch!” someone exclaimed. “No, Tony don’t, I don’t think he –”

    Peter’s spider sense shrieked a warning, and in a mess of uncoordinated limbs, Peter stumbled back, somehow keeping control of himself enough to not step on Mimic. But he landed in a sprawl on his back, the room spinning.

    Back. Back was bad, back was vulnerable. Stomach, heart, lungs… All on display. _Begging_ to be cut, stabbed, slashed. Peter had to get off his back.

    The only problem with that course of action was very large, and very _green_. Peter struggled, muscles tensing. His grip on his knife faltered, and for a single, heart-stopping moment, Peter thought he would drop it. But his sticky fingers were good for one thing, and that was _not_ dropping things.

    “Calm down!” someone shouted.

    Peter snarled wordlessly in response. Lifting his arm, he brought the knife down on the green hand – hand? How was it so big? Why was it so hard to _think_? Oh right, sedative.

    The knife did fuck all, and it _finally_ computed in Peter’s brain that he was being held down by the Hulk. So no, he really wasn’t going anywhere. He wriggled once more, trying to flip himself onto his stomach – a little safer – but the Hulk’s grip was firm.

    [Rgua ayxja,] White muttered.

    {Agiyksb’r qw vw vaxj ibkubw?}

    [U fywaa bir.]

    {Qw x4b rirakkt a4t qg4rwcwe qw q4br!}

    [Aouswt’a 4 vurxg.]

    {White’s an asshole! Wait a minute…}

    [Look, we’re back. And fuck you, Yellow.]

    “Shut up,” Peter groaned.

    “Peter? Are you back with us?” Widow’s head popped into Peter’s field of vision, her face oddly concerned. Her blue eyes scanned his face critically.

    “I never fucking left,” Peter hissed.

    [We went exactly nowhere.]

    {Mal fucking doped us!}

    [Can we kill _him_?]

    “I like that idea,” Peter said, his voice raspy. He wriggled in the Hulk’s grip. “Can I get up now?”

    Obligingly, the Hulk removed his hand, staring down at Peter with a curious expression. He grunted to himself before gently propping Peter up on his feet, petting him on the head and wandering away.

    [Um.]

    {Did we just get _petted_? Like a fucking _puppy_?}

    [I feel like that just happened.]

    Peter gaped. “What?” he demanded. The sedative had mostly been removed, metabolized by his body far faster than Mal had apparently anticipated. Then again, he _had_ had another needle. Maybe he’d been more prepared than Peter thought.

    Peter started towards the unconscious boy, cold fury filling him with each step forward. How _dare_ he? The little shit had very nearly rendered him unable to fight back, and the feeling was far, _far_ too familiar for comfort. He’d even stabbed Mimic…

    {Where’s Mimic?}

    [Oh shit. We’re definitely going to get the blame for this, aren’t we?]

    “Mimic?” Peter asked, pausing to glance around the room. When had they gotten into a room? The last place he remembered being was the corridor that _apparently_ lead out to the exit. “Mimic?” he repeated a little more insistently, eyes sliding over Stark, Widow and Barton.

    “She’s over here,” Cap said, beckoning him outside. With a hesitant glance towards Mal – he _really_ wanted to skin the boy, to hear his screams – he changed direction, stalking over to Cap’s side.

    Crouching by Mimic’s side, Peter was relieved to see that the wound wasn’t too bad. Sure, it must have hurt – and there was a bit of blood – but the worst that would happen was it would scar. The knife had missed the important bits, and the wound was barely deep enough to touch bone.

    “Could have been worse,” he murmured.

    [Much worse.]

    {Mal deserves much worse.}

    [We can give him that.]

    Mimic’s hand latched around his wrist. Peter blinked in surprise, eyes flicking up to her face. “Not Mal,” she whispered.

    [{Huh?}]

    Peter tilted his head. “ _Another_ fucking clone?” he demanded, disbelief clear in his tone. Mimic’s hand dropped back to the floor, her face abnormally pale.

    [Writer lady likes clones.]

    {What’s with Hydra and clones?}

    [How do we know it’s still Hydra?]

    Yellow snorted. {Please. Of course it is.}

    “Clones,” Peter hissed. “Just fucking great.” He paused. “Actually, yes. Great, clones. Clones aren’t people, not really. They’re _copies_. So what I’m about to do won’t count as murder.” He jumped gleefully to his feet, ready to get his knives out and get busy, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

    “I think you’ve done enough,” Captain America said firmly, looking exceedingly disappointed.

    Peter’s mouth fell open. “What?” he asked. “I only killed one person! And he had it coming!”

    “You don’t really expect us to believe that all the personnel here just happened to die at the same time?” Stark asked.

    [Idiot, it was the bad guys!]

    “Yeah! I don’t know what happened, but all the bad guys got out and started killing everyone!”

    {We totally convinced them.}

    [We totally did not.]

    “And you escaped by some miracle?” Stark demanded. His arms were folded across his chest, his entire stance screaming ‘Uh-huh, try again’. Peter bristled.

    “I was in the middle of showing Norman Osborn exactly how much of a mistake he made coming after me when they broke out,” Peter snarled. “Maybe they saw my work and decided leaving me alone would be the best course of action.” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “You _did_ see my work, right?”

    “If you mean the mess you left of Osborn, then yes, we saw it,” Stark replied. “And I notice you’ve had a wardrobe change – is that Armani, or A La Dead Man?”

    [What the _fuck_ does that even mean?!]

    {I don’t know!}

    “You said it!”

    {I know!}

    [This is insane!]

    “I thought that was us!”

    {Why are we all yelling?}

    “I don’t know, I was just following your lead.” Peter shrugged. “And to answer your question, Stark, it _is_ Armani. Osborn won’t be needing them where he’s going.”

    “And where, exactly, is that? Because he looks pretty dead to me. I don’t really think he’s going anywhere.”

    “It’s this lovely place called hell,” Peter replied. “I hear it’s warm all year round. He’ll hardly be needing a suit.”

    {Bu-dm-tss!}

    [I think we need to keep a scorecard,] White said. [For how many times we burn each other.]

    “If _he’s_ going to hell, where the fuck are you going?” Stark demanded.

    “Language!” Cap barked.

    [Isn’t it obvious?]

    {I thought it was obvious?}

    “Do you _really_ need to ask, Stark?” Peter cocked his hip, summoning his inner teenager to deliver the right amount of sass as he struck his pose. “I’m heading there too, but _I_ am a VIP. I’ll get the special treatment, you know.”

    {Where’s Wade?}

    [I thought he’d be on pick up duty?]

    Peter hummed. “Wade?” he asked.

    “He sat this one out,” Widow replied. “He said something about not being okay with seeing you like this?”

    Peter examined himself critically, but couldn’t see anything wrong with his current ensemble. Then again, he’d never been very good with fashion. “Like what?”

    {Is there something in our teeth?}

    [Can’t be, we haven’t eaten anyone for ages.]

    Peter snickered. “I remember that one time I walked around with someone’s –” he cut himself off abruptly. “A story for another time,” he murmured. “Like what, Widow?”

    [That focus was impressive.]

    {Yeah, usually we’re _way_ better at distracting him…}

    [I think we need to up our game.]

    “I don’t know,” Widow replied shortly. “You should ask him yourself. You’re coming back with us.”

    “ _Am_ I?” Peter asked, flexing his fingers slowly.

    {Don’t tell us what to do!}

    [It won’t end well. For you.]

    “Nat,” Barton said. He was letting a calm looking Banner look over his wounds, wounds that Peter only vaguely remembered putting there.

    “Do I have to apologise for that?” Peter muttered, lip curling in annoyance. “Because I don’t fucking want to.”

    “We’re all good, Webs,” Barton grunted.

    [Webs?]

    { _Webs_?}

    “Webs?” Peter repeated incredulously. “ _Webs_?”

    Barton glanced up. “Well, you’re not really ‘the Spider’ anymore, are you?”

    [Unfortunately, he has a point.]

    {It’s a very sharp point.}

    Peter’s brow furrowed. “Webs,” he muttered.

    “If you don’t like it, tough. You’ve given us all nicknames already. Fair’s fair.”

    “I don’t play fair,” Peter replied absently.

    [Never have.]

    {Well, actually…}

    [Spiderman doesn’t count, he wasn’t us.]

    “Wait, I haven’t given you all nicknames!” Peter exclaimed indignantly. “You don’t have one. Neither does the good Captain. _Or_ Banner. But since you’ve given me permission…” Peter trailed off with a nasty grin.

    [Let the fun begin.]

    {…}

    Peter cocked his head. “Yellow?”

    {Um… I got nothing.}

    [What?]

    {I mean, Hawkeye. How can I play with that? Captain America? And I _like_ Banner.}

    [Fuck.]

    “Yellow’s been _swirled_ ,” Peter whispered, horrified.

    {What? I have?!}

    [Regain control from the swirl, Yellow!]

    {How?!}

    “Jump up and down seven times and scream bloody murder,” Peter suggested.

    {Okay!} There was a moment’s pause, and then Yellow started screaming.

    White swore. [Abort fucking mission! Abort!]

    “Why do I _do_ this to myself?” Peter groaned, gripping his head.

    Mimic whimpered. “Too loud,” she said, her voice too soft to be heard by anyone other than Peter.

    “I _know_ ,” Peter snarled, whipping his head from side to side. “Yellow, can it!”

    [Like that’s gonna work,] White scoffed.

    “You got a better idea?”

    [Yeah. Smash your head against the wall. That’ll get his attention.]

    “Okay!”

    Mimic made a horrified noise, but Peter was already moving, skipping over to the closest wall. None of the Avengers stopped him when he pressed his head against said wall – the room did, however, descend into chaos after the first solid crack of Peter’s head against the wall.

    Someone shouted, but Peter had knocked himself _good_ and couldn’t understand what was being said – everything was fuzzy, the wall moving in a distracting manner. But Yellow was still screaming, so Peter slammed his head into the wall again. The third time, there was some sort of resistance between Peter’s head and the wall – he never quite managed to hit it, and whatever was between his head and the wall wasn’t hard, and Yellow was still screaming…

    Ignoring the blood dripping into his eyes, and the sound of White laughing hysterically, Peter staggered back from the wall. Someone grabbed his arm, keeping him steady, but when he forced himself to look, there was no one there.

    “Peter!” someone shouted, and Peter blinked, suddenly finding Stark all up in his space.

    [You could always ask him to knock you out,] White snickered.

    “No, don’t!” Mimic gasped desperately.

    “You need to calm down,” Bruce said soothingly.

    “No, you don’t understand!”

    “Hey Princess,” Peter mumbled, words rolling together. “Your boyfriend is a bit of a dick. Killing all of those _innocent_ people. Shame you let him into the Tower, isn’t it?”

    Stark’s face lost whatever colour it had had, and he punched Peter square in the nose. The world swirled, but after a few moments it became clear he would be staying conscious. Yellow screamed on in the background.

    “Looks like you’ll have to punch harder than that, Princess,” Peter said, weakly poking Stark in the forehead. “C’mon, I know you want to…”

    “Stark!”

    “Tony!”

    _Crack._

 

* * *

* * *

  

    Peter blinked back into awareness easily. One second it was black, the next he was blinking up at the unfortunately familiar ceiling of his room in the Tower.

    [Welcome back.]

    {Hey hey!}

    “Would you look at that?” Peter muttered, raising a hand to let his fingers dance across his face experimentally. He hardly winced when his fingers encountered the mess of his nose – in an almost clinical manner, he straightened it as best he could. He didn’t think he’d look very good with a crooked nose. “Someone finally shut up.”

    {You were the one who said to do it!}

    “It was a suggestion you could have ignored. Like White’s was a suggestion I could have ignored.”

    [Why’d you do it, then?]

    Peter sighed. “You’re going to be less of an asshole now that you got what you wanted, right?”

    [I could change it up.]

    “But you won’t. You and Yellow are nothing if not predictable.”

    [Rude.]

    {But we’re _you_! That means _you’re_ predictable.}

    “Fuck off. I am insane. And _that_ ,” Peter poked at his eye, “has got to be a lovely black eye.”

    [When you break your nose, aren’t there usually two black eyes?]

    {Writer lady knows shit about this stuff.}

    [There’s this thing called ‘research’.]

    “Research, smee-search.”

    [{ _Smee_!}]

    “Always pulling down that stupid shirt of his – _why_ did he wear it if it didn’t _fit_?”

    {He wears the same glasses as Dumbledore.}

    [Who wore it better?]

    “Dumbledore,” Peter muttered. His fingers found the nasty gash along his forehead. “I’m Harry Potter,” he said.

    [That… Oddly does feel lightning shaped.]

    {Huh.}

    “We are the Chosen One!”

    {Was old man Norman our He Who Must Not Be Named?}

    [How boring.]

    “Maybe Hydra’s our Voldemort?”

    [{Don’t say his name!}]

    “Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself,” Peter snapped back.

    [Damn. He got us there.]

    {We’re not _scared_!}

    “This is a stupid conversation.”

    [Because we usually have such intelligent ones.]

    “Well, with Yellow here, that’s fucking impossible, I suppose.”

    {Hey!}

    [Spidey has a point.]

    “Damn straight I do. I always have a point.” Peter pushed himself into a sitting position, glaring at a spot on the floor until the room stopped spinning. “Ugh, head wounds. It may be the only way to shut you two up, but _jeez_. The recovery is shit.”

    The door creaked open, and Wade’s masked head poked into the room. “I thought I heard you talking.”

    {Wade!}

    […]

    “Don’t be like that – you have accepted your fate.”

    [… Wade…]

    “Work on that enthusiasm, White. Hey Wade!”

    Wade came into the room, reaching to take off his mask. “So,” he said, placing his mask on the desk near the door. “What happened today?”

    [Does he sound mad?]

    {Why didn’t he come?}

    “Yellow wants to know why you didn’t come,” Peter replied, fiddling with his nose.

    Wade sat on the edge of the bed, blue eyes concerned. “I didn’t come because I didn’t want to see you hurt. When the call came in that all the villains had escaped… I was worried, baby boy. I don’t think I would have been able to handle it if you got hurt.”

    {That’s sweet.}

    [Sickeningly so.]

    “Why?” Peter asked.

    Wade blew out a breath. “Do you realize how easily you could die?” he asked. “I can’t stop thinking about it. And I feel like if I’d gone and seen you hurt, I wouldn’t have been able to control myself. I haven’t always shot to injure people, baby boy.” His lips twitched in a half-amused smile. “I have better aim than you.”

    [Is he… Is he talking about killing someone because we got hurt?]

    Peter frowned. “No, that’s _my_ gig. You don’t get to go all killy-willy. That’s _me_.”

    {You said willy!}

    [Not to mention, you end up on our side of the morality line?]

    “You don’t get to fucking step back. Don’t you dare cross that line, Wade,” Peter growled. “ _I_ am the morally grey character – you’re my fucking guiding light, asshole. You don’t get to make questionable decisions. You make the _right_ ones.”

    Wade smiled. “That’s a heavy burden you’re giving me.”

    “Your shoulders are certainly broad enough for it,” Peter murmured, letting his eyes run over Wade appreciatively.

    Wade grinned, and then looked at him expectantly. Peter sighed. “I went to play with Norman,” he muttered. “We sang some Old McDonald, played with knives… He checked out before I could _really_ have my fun. I had a plan, for once.”

    Wade’s eyes widened. “You? A plan?”

    “Blame the fucking swirl,” Peter muttered. “Doesn’t matter – Loki followed me out and killed everyone _I_ was planning to leave alive. So again I say: plans suck.”

    {Knife-bro!}

    [Nah, he was demoted.]

    “ _Loki_ followed you?” Wade repeated.

    Peter hummed, reaching out to grab one of Wade’s hands. He peeled the glove off, his attention caught by the scars shifting across Wade’s skin.

    “I don’t know why,” Peter said, anticipating Wade’s next question. His fingers danced across Wade’s hand, chasing scars. “He never said. I just came out of Norman’s room and… Well, everyone was dead.” He shrugged.

    [Rude.]

    {Asshole.}

    “And then?” Wade encouraged.

    “I remembered Mimic said she didn’t know her limits, so I thought I’d test them.” Peter shrugged again. “She came, and she decided on the plan that would keep me out of the shit while also giving the Avengers someone to blame.”

    Wade nodded. “She thought we’d blame the villains.”

    “To be fair, Loki and I weren’t exactly being helpful. My contribution was painting a bloody apple on the wall for target practice.”

    [T’was a good apple.]

    {Pity we never got to throw anything at it…}

    “Why didn’t you just tell them it was Loki?” Wade asked, sounding puzzled.

    “Because you gave Princess a week.”

    [Duh.]

    {Silly!}

    The look on Wade’s face was hard to decipher. Peter tried to puzzle it out for a few seconds before he shook himself and continued.

    “Yellow saw him first,” Peter muttered. “Irritating little shit, but sometimes he’s useful. White was the deciding vote – faces are so _boring_ , sometimes. I don’t usually bother with them. But it was Mal. The kid we rescued.”

    “The one from the convenience store.”

    [That’s him.]

    {Little fucking shit.}

    [No, remember, Mimic said the one who got us was a clone.]

    {Wonder how she knew?}

    [Maybe she could hear his name?]

    {Maybe he just thought like a clone.}

    Peter snorted. “How do you think like a clone?”

    {How would I know? I’m not a clone!}

    “Peter,” Wade said quietly. “Did you find out why Mal was in there? That’s a SHIELD prison. Where they put the hella bad guys.”

    Peter nodded. “And it’s where I would have gone if you guys had caught me back in the day. I did my research – had to see my accommodation!”

    [Standard prison accommodation. I was expecting so much more from SHIELD.]

    “But Mimic doesn’t think it’s Mal,” Peter continued. “She thinks it’s another clone.”

    Wade frowned. “Why would anyone want a clone of _Mal_?”

    “Maybe he’s not as normal as I thought,” Peter suggested. “I mean, his name _was_ hidden from Mimic. Like Loki’s was.”

    [What happened to the clone?]

    “Good question, White. He wants to know what happened to the clone of Mal?”

    “Fury threw him in a room somewhere. He won’t tell anyone where. I think he’s worried it’ll get back to you somehow.” Wade arranged himself so that he was lying on the bed next to Peter. “You have a reputation, baby boy.”

    Peter snorted. “I’d fucking hope so. Do you know how many people I’ve killed in fun and exciting ways? No, you don’t want to know. And I’ve only been a mercenary for… How long?”

    {Timelines suck!}

    [Two years?]

    “I’ve been stuck with you two for _two years_?” Peter asked. “When’s our anniversary? We need to celebrate!”

    [{No.}]

    “Aww, come on! Don’t be like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! New chapter, no cliffhanger. I _can_ be nice!
> 
> I watched CA:CW last night (it's great, do go see) and I have _plans_ for this fic now. Full bodied plans, not the 'hmm, I could do this' kind of plans I usually have. So that's a thing that's happening.
> 
> White and Yellow's mumbo-jumbo does actually say something. I think it's pretty simple to figure out, and it's not relevant to the plot so you don't need to know what it says.
> 
> Don't forget to comment, and feel free to say hi on Tumblr! I post updates on there :D (thewitchthetimeladythehuntress)


	11. Chapter 11

    “Webs,” Barton said, sly smile on his face. “Feeling better?”

    Peter almost turned on his heel and walked out, but Wade caught his hand and pulled him into the nearest chair. He sent Peter a pleading look that would have been 1000 times more effective without the mask obscuring his features.

    [And yet, here we sit.]

    {Just because it could have been more effective doesn’t mean it wasn’t going to be effective anyway,} Yellow pointed out.

    “Just peachy,” Peter muttered. “I _love_ round table meetings. All the do-gooder vibes, schmucks with their heads jammed so far up their ass they can chew their food again on the way out.” He gave Barton a cheerful smile and a thumbs up. “Let me know how that tastes, yeah?”

    Bruce sighed. “Could we all pretend to be adults for the duration of this meeting?” he asked. The poor guy was already rubbing his temples like he was experiencing a migraine.

    [Why are we even here?]

    {They don’t want us alone?}

    “We could totally find clone Mal if they left us alone,” Peter muttered. “With a poke-poke here and a poke-poke there…”

    [Still?]

    {It _was_ brilliant.}

    Wade’s hand squeezed his. “Fury wanted you here,” he said softly. “Just this once – you know I hate meetings like this as much as you.”

    Widow strode in, cocking her head when she caught sight of Peter. “You look better,” she noted coolly. “Your nose isn’t crooked anymore.”

    “Had to straighten it,” Peter replied, voice just as cool. “Would hate to have a crooked nose. I’d have to break it all over again. Blood only tastes so good for a little while, you know. And then it gets all gluggy and gross. Worse than porridge.”

    Widow hummed and took a seat next to Barton. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here,” she said.

    Peter tapped his temple. “I’ve thought up a few reasons why,” he said with a simpering smile. “Wonder how right I’ll be?”

    “Are you serious right now?” Stark demanded as he walked in, throwing a glance at Thor. “What is _he_ doing here?”

    Wade shifted in his seat. “Fury asked,” he said shortly.

    Stark threw up his hands. “Great. So now he gets to play at being an Avenger.”

    Peter cocked an eyebrow. “I haven’t signed shit,” he said. “And as you may recall, Princess, I never wanted to be part of your little boy band. Featuring Widow.”

    Bruce bit his lip, while Stark grew redder in the face. “I suppose you’ve thought about who would play what, then.”

    [Not even a little.]

    {But we can do this shit off the top of our heads!}

    “Princess is, obviously, the main star. Singer, or lead guitarist. Not both, because then he’d have to concentrate too much on one thing – and that one thing wouldn’t be flirting with the girls in the audience. Bruce, you’re drums – Hulk, smash. See the appeal? Barton, bass. Widow, vocals, or piano. You’re the eye candy for the fellas out there, so you wear your tight black pants and whatever. Dance around the stage, take attention away from the fact Princess is _obviously_ not paying attention.”

    [Thor could also be drums.]

    {You don’t _hammer_ drums!}

    [No, you whack them with sticks instead.]

    {That’s rude!}

    [Not a lie, though.]

    Wade bounced in his seat, distracting Peter from the nickering boxes. “What about me, baby boy?”

    Peter cocked his head. “That would depend entirely on whether or not you wore your suit.”

    {Oh no, did you see that flinch?!}

    [Again I say, not a lie.]

    “With the suit, lead guitarist. You pull off being confident all the time with the suit. Without it, you probably wouldn’t be part of the band. Maybe running security?”

    {Oh yes,} Yellow purred. {Suits.}

    Peter blinked. “Yum,” he said. “I didn’t think of that.”

    [It’d have to be a fitted one.]

    “Stark wouldn’t have his security in anything less.”

    “Where does Thor fit in?” Bruce asked.

    “Undecided. White mentioned whacking, and that conversation went about as well as can be expected.” At the blank looks he received, Peter rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. “Molesting the mole? Bopping the Bishop? Fly fishing?”

    Wade snorted. “Masturbating,” he clarified for the still puzzled Avengers.

    “See? _Wade_ gets me!”

    [And we get him.]

    {He’s _ours_.}

    Peter spun and made grabby hands at Wade. “Gimme!”

    “Steve?”

    “Oh _right_. How could I forget him?” Peter paused.

    [I can’t really see him in this band,] White admitted.

    {Way too wholesome for the image that’s coming to mind with these guys.}

    [Rival band?]

    “One of those people who plays all the parts of a song?” Peter suggested. “Oh, he could do Acapella!”

    {Only if he can sing.}

    [Challenge him to karaoke.]

    {We’ll win!}

    [We can’t sing.]

    Peter huffed, offended. “All I do is sing,” he replied. “Singing is almost as annoying as talking all the time, you know. Plus, it’s _fun_ to change the lyrics.”

    [I think we did much better in the first story.]

    {This one’s been a bit of a letdown in terms of lyrical genius,} Yellow agreed.

    “How about this one? I made myself at home in the cobwebs and the lies.”

    [I’m learning all your tricks, I can hurt you from inside.]

    {I’m gonna make you suffer!}

    “I tried to be the lover to your nightmare,” Peter hummed, fingers dancing across the table.

    [Now I’m a heavy burden that you can’t bear… This is basically the song of our life, right?]

    “Light the way and let me go,” Peter sang in response. “Suffocate inside. I will break and watch you _crawl_.” He _loved_ watching people crawl away from him in fear. It was such a powerful feeling… One he hadn’t experienced in a while. Maybe he should fix that.

    {Bury me alive! That’s _totally_ more us.}

    [Especially if they’re crawling away in agony…]

    “If only you could find the strength the kill the memories,” Peter continued, glaring at the table. “Can you just turn away and let me go? Lie to me, you can feel that this love was never real.”

    [All your secrets crawl inside. You keep them safe, you let them hide.]

    {Um, guys? We’re getting really fucking depressed. Singing usually makes us feel better.}

    “Lie to me, watch me bleed,” Wade murmured, soft enough that the sounds only barely brushed the edges of Peter’s hearing. “Cause I’ll still be here when you see you’re not alone.”

    {Aww,} Yellow gushed.

    [Totally ruined the moment.]

    {He made it _into_ a moment! There’s a difference, sour puss.}

    Peter laughed. “Sour puss,” he snickered, flicking his eyes over to Wade. He hoped the gratitude was clear in his expression. “In the belly of the beast, I’m a wolf amongst the sheep.” He gave the assembled Avengers a sharp smile, belatedly noticing that everyone had shown up.

    Fury was watching him with a distinctly unimpressed look. “If everyone is ready.”

    “Welcome to a place where dreams become nightmares,” Peter stage whispered. He giggled and mimed zipping his lips when Stark shot him a glare.

    “After interrogating the clone of one Malachi Smith,” Fury said, “it’s been confirmed that Hydra are currently on the hunt for someone. Someone who happens to be sitting in this room, in fact.”

    {Cap?}

    [Capsicle is very interesting from a scientists POV.]

    _Not to mention no one’s managed to recreate the formula,_ Peter added mentally.

    [But why use Mal?]

    {Good point! The only person Mal really talked to was us!}

    There was a very pointed silence in the room when Peter bothered to tune back in. He blinked, eyes widening in surprise when he realized everyone was staring at him.

    Good thing he’d never gotten stage-fright.

    He jumped to his feet, angrily throwing his hands in the air. Peter glared at Fury, several curses trying to escape his zipped lips. With a huff of frustration, Peter dropped to floor, scrambling around until he found the key to unlocking his lips.

    [Needlessly dramatic. We like.]

    “You think Hydra’s after _me_?” Peter snapped incredulously, popping up from under the table. “That’s insane. I tore up their little contract. The last Hydra chap I spoke to ended up being _digested_. Sweetheart, no.” Peter shook his head, leaping to his feet. “You’ve got the wrong man. You sure they don’t want Capsicle? Super-soldier and everything.”

    “We _know_ they want you,” Widow said. “We don’t, however, know _why_.”

    [Fury’ll know.]

    {Always!}

    “Which begs the question of why he isn’t sharing with the class,” Peter muttered, glaring at Fury. The other man watched him with an almost serene expression that did not fool Peter. At all. “So?” he demanded. “Are you going to tell us what you know, or are you going to keep that information held tight to your little chest until the time is ‘right’?”

    {Tell us, tell us, tell us!} Yellow chanted.

    Fury cleared his throat. “I’m sure your suspicions are unfounded –” he began, but someone cut him off.

    Peter wasn’t sure who was the most surprised when Stark rose to his feet, dark eyes narrowed mutinously. “As much as I hate to admit it,” Stark said, “bug boy has a point. You’re always two steps ahead.”

    Peter snorted. “More like twenty,” he muttered.

    Stark waved a hand. “Whatever. The point is that you keep keeping things from us, things that we _need_ to know. Why don’t you try a little honesty for once?”

    Widow leaned back in her chair. “Director Fury has never led us astray before,” she said serenely.

    [She’s obligated to say that, since she sucked his cock to get an invite to the Avengers.]

    “True as that may be, White,” Peter said, “I have to agree with Widow. Fury hasn’t led you astray. However,” he added, raising a hand to forestall any arguments, “how many times have you guys had _me_ on your side? I have no doubt Fury can _predict_ outcomes until the cows come home – stupid saying – but _I’m_ not an Avenger. I don’t fit in one of your pretty little boxes with neat wrapping and a stupid fucking bow.”

    Peter could feel them all watching, could sense the surprise in the room. He snorted.

    “Point in case – you’re all so _surprised_ when I make a logical argument. Even you,” Peter said, jabbing a vicious finger at Fury. “You haven’t figured me out, and you can’t predict my movements. It’s a major oversight on your part if you’re willing to risk this entire team just to see if you can _guess_ correctly.”

    [So sit the fuck down and shut up.]

    {We fucking _own_!}

    [Dammit Spidey, we are so badass.]

    {Look at their faces!} Yellow cackled.

    Peter didn’t move, staring boldly at Fury. He kept his arms folded across his chest, fingers tapping against his arm. He wasn’t angry – he didn’t particularly care about the fate of the Avengers, but he had _warned_ Fury against lying to him. He was sure he had.

    [You did, Spidey.]

    {Definitely. We made the pretty web, remember?}

    [Speculation time – what if Hydra doesn’t want to recruit us anymore?]

    Peter cocked his head. “Then what the fuck do they want?” he demanded.

    [Think about it – they gave us a choice, and we turned them down.]

    “I think ‘turned them down’ is a very, very nice way of putting it. You’re usually not very nice, White. But yes,” Peter said, “I see your point.”

    {We pissed off Hydra…}

    Peter hummed thoughtfully. “We could be a stepping stone,” he suggested. “To get what they really want.”

    {Which would be…?}

    Involuntarily, Peter’s eyes flickered to Wade. The hero tilted his head, acknowledging Peter’s look without saying anything. Peter looked away, turned his attention back to Fury.

    “Are you going to say anything, Fury?” he asked in a deceptively calm voice.

    “I think it’s best if I leave you all to your own speculations at this time,” Fury replied. And then he walked out, calm as you please. As if he wasn’t leaving a room full of angry superheroes plus one scary mercenary.

    [Former mercenary.]

    “We still kill people when it counts,” Peter murmured.

    {If Hydra comes after Wade, I hope they’re fucking prepared,} Yellow growled.

    [We need out of the Tower,] White snapped. [Find a computer, start some research. Get a hold of someone…]

    {Someone like Weasel?}

    [Weasel… We haven’t seen him in _ages_. And Blind Al. It’ll be like a family reunion.]

    {…Without Mimic and Wade, though. Right?}

    [They’re our second family. They chose to be with us. Weasel and Al… Didn’t get a choice.]

    “Right,” Peter said loudly, clapping his hands. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I _do not_ do well sitting and doing nothing. _So_. Ima just… Leave.”

    Everyone except Wade jumped to their feet.

    {Oh yes, please try and stop us.}

    “I _dare_ you,” Peter hissed, dropping into a defensive crouch automatically.

    [Uh, remember how we were out-gunned by _three_ Avengers?]

    {We’ve had an upgrade since then,} Yellow said carelessly. {Plus, it’ll be _fun_!}

    Rogers looked apologetic. “After what happened last time you left the Tower, we can’t let you leave,” he said.

    “For all we know, you’re going to gather up your troops and try and take over New York,” Stark added sarcastically.

    Peter cocked his head slowly. “Somebody’s got a little secret,” he sang. “Somebody fucking knows I know it. So somebody better be careful, Princess. I’m not the nicest guy around, you know? I could just – accidentally, of course – blurt. It. Out.”

    Yellow cackled. {Suck it, Princess!}

    “Not to mention, you’ll probably go straight to Mal’s clone and kill him,” Barton said, although he sent a curious glance towards Stark.

    “The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind,” Peter replied truthfully. “But thanks for reminding me, Winghead.”

    [That was very lame.]

    {Blame writer lady.}

    [Always.]

    “Look, guys,” Wade said, “I think it’s probably better if you let him go. I mean, we could all start fighting and that would be _fun_ for all of two seconds, and then we’d have to clean up whatever mess we made and cleaning has _never_ been my strong suit.”

    Peter opened his mouth to remind Wade of all the times he’d cleaned Peter up, but Wade sent a warning look his way. Peter’s mouth clicked shut.

    {He knows us so well!}

    “If you want, I’ll go with him,” Wade offered.

    Stark snorted. “No thanks. You’re likely to just let him do whatever he wants.”

    Bruce sighed. “No offense, Wade, but Tony’s right. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgement.”

    “You heard it here today, folks,” Stark said triumphantly.

    “I’m not the only one whose judgement is clouded,” Wade replied calmly. His face was unreadable beneath his mask.

    [He has a point.]

    Peter was so focused on the argument that he didn’t notice Barton and Widow moving until his spider sense tingled a gentle warning. He jerked, startled, but Barton’s arm was already fitted snugly around his shoulders.

    “Nat and I will go with Webs, then,” Barton offered.

    {Um.}

    [No.]

    {Please.}

    [And fuck off.]

    “How about a solid _no_?” Peter snapped, trying to wriggle out from Barton’s hold. But the man was obnoxiously stubborn, and Peter reluctantly admitted defeat when Widow moved to his other side and settled her hand between his shoulder blades.

    [ _Kill them_ ,] White hissed.

    {Wow, White, you really need some anger management classes! But I totally agree.}

    “The motion has been thirded,” Peter muttered.

    Widow sent him a look. “That’s not a word.”

    Peter rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Sue me. And also, hands off before I decide to break each and every one of the bones in your hand.”

    Peter felt Barton chuckle. “But we’re on your side, Webs.”

    “Being at my side is different to being on my said,” Peter snapped. “Hands. Off.”

    Widow hummed. “If we let you go, you have to let us come with you. And you _won’t_ be able to lose us like you would be able to lose any of the others.”

    [ _Kill them,_ ] White repeated.

    {She makes an amazing point, but White makes a better one! Either rip Barton’s arm from his socket or bite them both.}

    Peter snarled. “Fucking swirl,” he said, one hand twitching to grab Barton’s arm while the other gripped his own wrist so tight he could feel the bones grinding against one another.

    [What are you waiting for?] White shouted. [We’re not on their side, we haven’t signed anything!]

    “I know,” Peter spat.

    {She killed Wade! We’re still mad about that, right?}

    “Of course we are.”

    [Then fuck the swirl!]

    Peter hissed when he felt his own grip tighten, felt the bones in that grip scream in protest. The pain didn’t bother him anywhere near as much as the fact that his own body was seemingly rebelling against him. _He_ was in control! There was no one else who could take his will away from him. This was _his_ body, _his_ decisions, _his_ control.

    The bones in his wrist snapped with an audible sound.

    [What the fuck, Spidey?]

    {You broke your own wrist? To _stop_ yourself from hurting them?}

    [The swirl has you worse than we thought.]

    {Who _are_ you?}

    Peter stared down at his broken wrist. _Who are you?_ He held it up, watching his hand flop back and forth. “All the dinosaurs feared the T-Rex,” he murmured, a half-smile on his face. And then he moved.

    Widow and Barton hit the floor, immobilized by Peter’s quick jabs to a few pressure points. _Who are you?_ The rest of the Avengers moved forward, and Peter methodically took them down one at a time – without hurting them. _Who are you?_ Every move tight and controlled. _He_ was in control. _Who are you?_

    Peter stopped by Wade’s chair. His boyfriend still hadn’t moved. Peter blinked at him. “Don’t follow me,” he said, frowning at the way his voice sounded flinty and threatening. He worked his jaw for a moment. “Don’t follow me,” he repeated, and nodded in satisfaction. That sounded more like a request.

    Bruce, he was pleasantly surprised to see, was also sitting at the table. “Thank you for not hurting them,” Bruce said. Peter listened to his heartbeat for a moment.

    “I’m sorry,” Peter replied, his head twitching to one side. “I know you don’t like being put into… _stressful_ situations.”

    Bruce sighed. “It’s alright – the other guy seems to like you anyway. Are you sure you won’t…” Bruce hesitated.

    [Who _are_ you?] White asked.

    Peter’s head cocked in the other direction. “I’m not the Spider anymore,” he said. “Barton was… right. I need to – I need to find out who I am. I can’t… Work like this. So for now… I promise I will not go after the clone. I have other things to be focusing on.”

    Wade’s hand caught Peter’s. “When will you come back?” he asked.

    {Take him with you!}

    “I don’t know,” Peter replied. He reached over and pulled up the mask, letting his fingers trace over Wade’s lips. “I’ll miss you.”

    Wade exhaled. “I could come with you,” he suggested.

    [{Yes!}]

    Peter shook his head. “Don’t follow me,” he repeated, pressing his forehead against Wade’s. “I’ll be back… Later.”

    Peter turned abruptly on his heel and stalked from the room, leaving Bruce and Wade to look after the paralysed Avengers. He snapped his wrist back into place and ripped a strip off his shirt to wrap it in.

    “Where are you going, Spider?” Fury demanded, stepping out of the shadows. He glanced down at Peter’s bound wrist. “And how many of my people have you left on the floor?”

    {Can we pretty please kill him?}

    [Oh look, you’re getting predictable. He knew you were coming.]

    “I’m leaving,” Peter replied evenly. It was stunningly easy right now to ignore the boxes. “I haven’t signed anything. You and yours have no hold on me.”

    “Hydra is after _you_ , boy –”

    Peter slammed a knife into the wall by Fury’s head, faster than the former agent could react. “I. Am. Leaving,” he said, venom flooding his mouth. “Do _not_ send anyone after me – I will send them back in _pieces_. And don’t you ever call me _boy_ again, because I will rip out your tongue and make you swallow it.”

    Fury had nothing to say to that. Peter stepped back, yanking his knife from the wall. He smirked and waved goodbye to Fury as he continued down the hall.

    “Spidey?” Mimic asked. “I can’t come with you?”

    [{Yes!}]

    “No,” Peter replied. “I have things I need to do. I’m trusting you not to say anything. Not even to Wade. And watch after Loki – you can blab about him after a week.”

    Mimic’s eyes were suspiciously bright. “What makes you think I’m going to stay here?” she demanded. “I could go off and do my own thing – meet the real Mal…”

    “Hydra probably has him,” Peter said. “When I come back, we’ll go after them together. Alright?”

    Mimic sniffed. “Okay,” she mumbled, and then wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug. After a moment, Peter carefully hugged her back. “Don’t be gone too long,” she whispered.

    “No promises on that front,” he muttered. “But I will be back.”

    [This is stupid!]

    {At least take someone!}

    [We don’t handle being alone well!]

    {Are you suicidal? Because you _know_ White is going to talk you into trying to kill yourself!}

    [Hey!]

    {Don’t even – you know I’m right.}

    “He can try,” Peter replied sharply. “I won’t do it.”

    Mimic released him. “You promise you’ll be back?”

    “I promise,” Peter said solemnly. “And when I come back… We can all kick Hydra’s butt together. Sound good?”

    “Sounds good.”

    Peter didn’t say goodbye. That was something reserved for a special occasion. Something… Final. This would only be temporary. It was easy to promise he’d come back, because despite how much he didn’t like the Tower, it had sort of become a place of safety.

    He stepped out of the Tower, knowing he’d be back, and vanished into New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! New chapter - unfortunately I'm having some RL stuff going down and I have to focus on that for a bit. So I won't be updating any of my works for a while, sorry. I'm still writing, just not updating. Hopefully I'll have a few chapters ready when I update next!
> 
> (This was an unexpected development, but I think Peter's going to benefit from being away from the Tower. Fury's been a little too controlling, in my mind. And besides, the Avengers are going to learn to miss him. It's gonna be great)
> 
> As always, I love all your comments so don't be shy!


	12. Chapter 12

    “With a thousand knives and a good disguise,” Peter sang, dropping to the floor. The occupants of the room froze, eyes widening in horror as they took in his suited form.

    The new suit appeared to be doing _wonders_ for his intimidation factor. He’d made it himself just yesterday, design finally settling in his mind. Most of the materials he’d bought, nice and legal, but several bits and pieces he’d stolen. Including the really nice, high tech earpiece he’d snatched from the Avengers Tower.

    Where his suit had been blue and red, he’d decided this time to copy Wade’s colour scheme. The suit was mostly black, the material red along his forearms and on his chest and back. It was darker than his original red, and lacked the webbed design he’d loved so much.

    Peter thought he looked _good_. Well, bad. But a good bad, not a bad bad. What was he talking about again?

    {Hit ‘em right between the eyes, hit ‘em right between the eyes!} Yellow continued excitedly, pulling Peter back to the present.

    Peter hissed in mock sympathy as his crossbow bolt buried into his target’s forehead. “When you walk away, nothing more to say,” he continued, pulling a knife free of a sheath and throwing it almost lazily at the next person in the warehouse.

    {See the lightning in your eyes.}

    [See ‘em running for their lives,] White added gleefully. [Make them scream, Spidey!]

    {That wasn’t part of the song! You _ruined_ it.}

    “Nice work you did,” Peter snapped, wrapping his hand around someone else’s throat. A flex, and Peter felt something _give_ in his grip. The person – a woman, her blond hair falling down her back in thick waves – emitted a choking gasp before the light died in her eyes.

    Damn, he still got a kick out of that.

    [You’re gonna go faaaaaar kid.]

    {Spidey! He can’t just do that! He _ruined_ it!}

    [Now you’re ruining it,] White pointed out.

    “You’ve _both_ ruined it,” Peter snarled. “We couldn’t just have a nice little sing along. Oh no. You two had to be a great big bag of dicks,” Peter paused to flip over another person, foot cracking into the fifth person’s skull. “And ruin everything,” he continued once he was back on his feet.

    [I think this is about the point I tell you you should kill yourself, yeah?] White asked. [Because you’re being rude and I don’t appreciate it.]

    “Well, _I_ don’t appreciate you ruining the sing along,” Peter replied, humouring the last man standing for a few swings before he darted in and pulled his mask up, sinking his fangs into the guy’s throat. He tossed the gasping man aside. “I mean, I’m on a mission here! We gotta figure out the swirl’s business, boxes!”

    {I think drug cartels are okay to kill,} Yellow said as Peter regarded the bodies he’d left in his wake.

    [Better than when we _accidentally_ killed that kid,] White muttered.

    Peter shuddered. “Yep, kids are off the menu. And babies. And pregnant ladies.”

    [Not all ladies though,] White pointed out. [Just the innocent ones.]

    {We haven’t tested for rudeness!} Yellow exclaimed.

    “Oh!” Peter bounced on his toes. “Find a homophobic bitch and see if we can kill her?”

    [This sounds like a terrible idea. I approve.]

    {LET’S DO IT!}

    Peter rested his crossbow on his shoulder. “How are we going to do this?”

    “How are you going to do what?” someone demanded from behind him.

    Peter whirled around, crossbow automatically pointed at the person who had dared to interrupt his killing spree. He blinked.

    “Logan!” he said in surprise. The short mutant hadn’t even raised his hands to indicate he wasn’t a threat – instead, he was standing with his arms by his side, looking disapprovingly at the crossbow bolt aimed between his eyes.

    [Woah.]

    {What does _he_ want?}

    [Only way to find out is to ask.]

    {We could threaten?}

    “He doesn’t really think we’re that threatening, obviously,” Peter muttered, propping the crossbow back onto his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at the mutant. “Can I _help_ you?”

    Logan nodded at the people lying dead around Peter. “Came to see if I could help _them_ , bub. Thought you had things sorted?”

    “The swirl acted up again and we’re trying to figure out what I can and can’t do now that I apparently have _morals_.” Peter spat the last word like a curse. “So far, babies and children and good, pregnant women are off the menu. We were just going to find a nice bitch and see if we couldn’t help her to an early grave.”

    [A nice bitch?]

    {I thought a bitchy bitch?}

    “I meant nice… You know what, fuck you. You know what I meant.”

    [Yeah.]

    {Worth it!}

    Peter narrowed his eyes. “You want to test the bitch theory? Shut the fuck up.”

    Logan cleared his throat pointedly. “You’re not with Wade?”

    “Not right now,” Peter replied, nudging the man he’d bitten with his foot. The dying man was crying, sobbing even as the venom worked beneath his skin. “I gotta find me some balance. A semblance of balance, at the very least. I’m not the person I started out as.”

    [An innocent child with a thorn in his heart,] White muttered.

    “It starts with pain,” Peter sang, crouching down next to the man he’d bitten. “Followed by hate.”

    {Are you sane? Is there a cure for your sickness, have you no heart?}

    Peter’s fingers closed around the gagging man’s throat. “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” he said, and the man’s eyes fluttered open.

    “K-k-kill me!” he begged, writhing in pain.

    “Well,” Peter said, “since you asked so nicely.” He started to squeeze, watching the flicker of the relief in the man’s eyes before he abruptly let go and bounced to his feet. “Sucker!”

    Yellow giggled. {Look at his face!}

    [Crushing hope is nice,] White agreed.

    Peter laughed until there were tears in his eyes. “The look on your _face_!” he gasped, clutching his stomach with mirth. “Oh man, I really had you going there! I really… Really…” Peter trailed off, blinking.

    [What? No!]

    {Are you kidding?}

    “I…” Peter said, his voice hollow. He reached up to touch his cheeks, realized the red mask was in the way and tearing it off. He wiped at the tears. “The look on your face,” he repeated, a sob hiccupping up his throat.

    {The swirl attacks again. The victim is Spidey’s dignity.}

    [What the hell did we do wrong?]

    Peter wiped his eyes, but the tears kept coming. “I don’t _know_ ,” he replied frustration colouring his voice. “I feel bad. I don’t – _ugh_.” Peter tried to keep himself under control, but the sobs tore their way through his chest and up his throat. “ _Fuck_.”

    {Kill him?}

    [I just want this to stop. It’s pathetic.]

    Peter lashed out with his foot, kicking the dying man squarely in his chest. He felt his foot sink into the warmth of blood, the sharpness of broken bones, and pulled his foot back.

    [We ended his suffering.]

    {I don’t like the swirl!}

    Peter took one look at his bloody foot – he couldn’t see the blood, since the suit was black on his feet, but he could smell it and he could _feel_ it – and immediately felt something in his chest ache. Sorrow overwhelmed him, forcing him to crouch near the ground, incoherent noises spilling from his lips. He pulled at his hair.

    “I shouldn’t kill,” he whispered after some time had passed. “I – I’m not a killer.”

    [Yes you are.]

    {The killery-ist of killers!}

    Peter hiccupped. “Killery-ist isn’t a word,” he said, sounding more like himself.

    [You’re a killer.]

    “I _know_ I am,” Peter replied, frustrated. “But I don’t –” He cut himself off, fingers digging into his scalp. The rush of _feelings_ was fading, leaving him feeling worn and a bit like he’d had his insides scraped with a cheese grater.

    He needed clarity. He needed _something_ to hold onto, to keep his head above it all.

    [{Wade,}] the boxes chorused.

    “Spider? You alright?” Logan sounded gruffly concerned.

    “Fine,” Peter said bitterly. “It’s all sunshine and fucking rainbows around here. Kittens and puppies and _joy_.” He didn’t move, staying crouched on the ground. “Fuck.”

    {We should have taken Wade with us!}

    [You know I don’t usually agree with Yellow, but he has a point.]

    {He could have been the anchor.}

    “You’re just annoyed we haven’t been fucked for a few weeks,” Peter muttered back, knuckling his eyes. He snatched up his mask and yanked it back on. “I can’t be a good person,” he said. “I can’t go back to how I was.”

    [The swirl doesn’t erase what you’ve done.]

    “It doesn’t erase what I _want_ to do either,” Peter replied. “I’m still me… Just with hindrances.”

    {Gotta find the loopholes.}

    “I’m the _best_ at that,” Peter said. He glanced at Logan. “I have a trophy for it and everything. But what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your mutant buddies at that school?”

    {Anyone else feel like he’s gearing up to lie to us?} Yellow asked.

    “Don’t lie to me, Logan,” Peter warned. “I’m less inclined to forgive you right now.”

    Logan sighed. “You’re a little paranoid, Spider.”

    “Was I wrong to think you were going to lie to me?” Peter demanded, an edge to his voice.

    “No,” Logan admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not paranoid.”

    [Paranoid has kept us alive so far.]

    Peter nodded. “And alive is a state of being I would prefer over being dead.”

    {Seconded!}

    [Agreed.]

    {You were supposed to say thirded.}

    [We already established that wasn’t a word.]

    {Soooooo?}

    [So we can’t use it!]

    “We’re insane, we can use whatever word we want,” Peter said, pouting. “At least I don’t _lie_.”

    [{Much.}]

    Logan folded his arms, muscles bunching under his skin. Now that Peter took the time to observe, he noted that the mutant looked… Exhausted. Even worse than he had when the two of them went on their little Weapon X clean up mission.

    “Look, Spider, you didn’t actually do anyone any favours when you released all those freaks,” the mutant said. “We – that’s the X-Men, the Avengers, me and a few others – have been busy cleaning up _your_ mess.”

    {Has it been a week?}

    [It’s been like four.]

    {No wonder I’m feeling so desperate.}

    “You’re _always_ desperate,” Peter said.

    Yellow gasped. {Rude!}

    [True.]

    {White!}

    [What? You are the slut in this threesome.]

    Peter jerked. “This is not a threesome,” he said. “I would _not_ pick you two. Ever.”

    {First of all – _rude_! Second of all – fuck you! Third – I wouldn’t pick White either, Spidey. Such a buzzkill.}

    “But back to the point. It’s not _my_ mess,” Peter said, glancing up at Logan. He cocked his head. “You’re too short to look up to,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet.

    [Much better.]

    {He looks like he wants to punch us.}

    [What’s new?]

    “It’s Loki’s mess,” Peter continued.

    Logan frowned. “What are you talking about, bub?”

    {We’re not going to get in trouble for that… Right?}

    “We waited a week.”

    [In fact, we waited almost four.]

    “No one can yell at us. Wade only gave Princess a week.”

    {Okay. Cool. Good to know.}

    [Isn’t it? We can tell whoever we want.]

    Peter grinned. “Stark is sleeping with Loki,” he said slyly, grin widening when Logan’s jaw dropped.

    “You’re pulling my leg.”

    [{Am not!}] the boxes sang.

    Peter shook his head. “Swear on my newly discovered morals. Tony Stark is sleeping with Loki. Loki is the reason all the villains are wreaking havoc.”

    “How?” Logan demanded. “Everyone thinks you let them out.”

    [That’s funny.]

    {We totally did!}

    “But we had reasons. And they were _good_ reasons.”

    “So you _did_ let them out.”

    Peter shrugged. “Technically, yes. I was the one who let them out. But Loki forced my hand. If he hadn’t followed me and killed all the people I was planning on letting live, then I wouldn’t have had to scramble for a way to disguise the killings.”

    {We almost sound sane.}

    [This is terrifying.]

    {Can we maybe do something crazy?}

    “Wade promised Stark a week,” Peter added. “So I couldn’t just _out_ Loki. And I wasn’t taking points for those kills – they weren’t mine.”

    Logan shook his head. “Fuckin’ kids,” he muttered. “And you couldn’t just _tell_ someone that Loki was hanging around.”

    {…I think he missed the point.}

    “Wade promised Stark a week,” Peter repeated slowly.

    Logan nodded. “But _you_ didn’t. Loophole.” He shrugged. “Thought that’s make sense to you.”

    Peter blinked. Tilted his head. “Loophole,” he repeated. “Makes sense.”

    [He has a point. Why did we do that?]

    {Because Wade promised!}

    [But we didn’t! We could have told all the Avengers and sat back to watch the show.]

    Peter picked at the mask in his hands. “But Wade promised,” he said softly.

    [So everything he promises, we promise?]

    “No, of course not. That would be stupid.”

    [Then why did that one matter?]

    “I… I don’t –”

    {The swirl,} Yellow interrupted. {The fucking swirl.}

    [We can’t blame everything on the swirl!]

    {Well what’s your idea?}

    White hesitated. [It was probably the swirl,] he admitted grudgingly. [But then what else are we gonna blame on the swirl?]

    “You have something specific in mind?” Peter asked.

    [How we feel about Wade.]

    {You fucking what?}

    [Well, it’s what I think.]

    “But the swirl wasn’t… I didn’t start feeling _this_ because of the swirl.” Peter shook his head. “You’re wrong, you know.”

    [But what happens if I’m not?]

    Peter paused. “Fuck,” he hissed.

 

* * *

* * *

  

    Peter delivered a swift kick to the snarling woman’s chest, the sound of her bones shattering like music to his ears. Knives leapt into his hands, and he sliced up the arm of the man who’d paired up with her.

    “You’re going to have to do better than that,” the man snarled.

    “Please,” Peter purred, barely flinching when the man managed to land a punch, “you _really_ don’t want me to try.”

    “Spider! We want them alive if possible,” Logan called, stuck in a fight with a vaguely familiar shapeshifter.

    [Of course.]

    “Well,” Peter said. “Accidents happen.”  He lunged forward, using his weight to knock his opponent to the ground. He grinned down at the man. “Still not trying,” he sang, stabbing a knife into each of the man’s wide eyes.

    {That scream,} Yellow said. He sounded delighted. {Where’s more?}

    “I’m not too shy, to show I love you… So baby whenever you’re ready,” Peter sang, crooking his finger at the mutant standing off to the side, cat-like eyes flickering around wildly. “When you’re ready, come and get it.”

    {Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na!}

    Cat-eyes turned and bolted. Peter blinked in surprise. “Hey!” he called, his hands snapping up to his hips. “You can’t just _run off_! That’s rude! You get back here and fight me, damnit!”

    [Make it so he can never run away again,] White suggested. [Chop off his legs.]

    {What if they grow back?} Yellow asked.

    Peter laughed. “We cut them off again,” he replied. He shot a web at a nearby building and launching himself into the sky with an exhilarated cry. “I’m gonna getcha!”

    “Spider!” Logan bellowed, but Peter ignored him. He was hunting.

    He followed Cat-eyes from the rooftops, stalking the mutant without ever revealing his position. Peter thought that the mutant might know he was in trouble – he kept glancing around, eyes wide in alarm.

    The look of alarm transformed into pure terror when a scaly arm emerged from the sewer entrance, catching his leg and dragging him down. Cat-eyes shouted, and then he was gone.

    Peter paused on the closest roof, regarding the entrance with interest. “Liz,” he said.

    [What does he want with our prey?]

    {He’s _ours_ , Spidey!}

    “Could be a trap,” Peter muttered, slowly climbing down the building. The street was mostly clear of pedestrians – the few who had stayed stared at him and murmured among themselves. Peter tilted his head. “Web it?”

    [Safest.]

    {Least fun,} Yellow said impatiently.

    [Fastest.]

    {I _want_ to _hurt_ someone!}

    Peter hummed. “The swirl doesn’t like that.”

    [Liz will be one of the villains Logan wants to capture, right?]

    “Two birds, one stone,” Peter agreed.

    Yellow made a noise of frustration. {I don’t _care_ as long as we get to make something bleed!}

    [I wonder what colour Liz’s blood is,] White mused.

    Peter crouched. Webs shot from his wrist, and he flicked the sewer lid up and behind himself. The webs sent the lid into the closest shop window, but Peter ignored the sound of breaking glass, staring intently at the hole.

    [You know,] White said, [I feel like I should point out that lizards _eat_ spiders.]

    {We’ll turn the tables.}

    “We’ll eat _him_ ,” Peter agreed. He skittered closer to the sewer entrance and looked in. For a moment, everything was still.

    His spider sense screamed, and he was leaping back even before the first tip of Liz’s claws were visible. Peter laughed, landing lightly and circling the hole, senses stretched.

    “Hey there Liz,” he called. “Gotta say, I think you could do better with your accommodations. You’re missing out on the great elevator music, not to mention the pre-prepared food that generally tastes like cardboard. Generally, I’d say you upgraded, but man, the smell!”

    The hand retreated. “Why don’t you come down and ssee my accommodationss for yoursself?” Liz inquired, his voice echoing.

    “Now, now,” Peter said, his tone chiding. “You have to buy me dinner before you invite me back to your place. I’m a classy lady, Liz, not some back street whore!”

    [We’re totally a back street whore.]

    {Depends on the person…}

    “Besides,” Peter continued, “I’m already spoken for.”

    “Oh yess,” Liz hissed. “Your _hero_.”

    Peter paused. “You don’t sound too impressed, Liz.”

    “Do you know what Deadpool wass before he wass an Avenger?” Liz asked, and Peter caught sight of beady eyes glaring at him from the darkness of the sewer. “He wass a killer.”

    [We did already know that.]

    Peter shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Liz, but _I’m_ a killer. Why would it matter to me what Wade was? He’s a hero now.”

    “Poor Peter Parker,” Liz hissed, finally pulling himself out of the sewer. The few civilians still hanging around fled. “Doessn’t know hiss _hero_ was a killer.”

    [Dude, you think we don’t know?]

    “Wade was in the military,” Peter snapped. “Of course he killed some people.”

    {Asshole trying to make us fall out of love,} Yellow snarled.

    Liz smiled, the expression more sinister than it was probably intended on account of his teeth. “I’m not talking about that, Peter Parker,” he said. “I’m talking about _before_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello world. I am alive.
> 
> Slightly shorter than usual, I thought this was a good place to stop ;)
> 
> For those of you who missed out on my Tumblr post, Peter's new suit is inspired by the Assassin Spider-Man on Earth-8351. I love that suit now. It's my favourite. But I _am_ going to start doing updates on my Tumblr more often, so if you want to have a look, I'm thewitchthetimeladythehuntress *salutes*
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some pretty detailed injury bits, so if you're squeamish, sorry. (But if you're squeamish, idk why you thought this was a good idea to read?)

    Peter cocked his head. “Before?” he echoed. Before… what? Weapon X? Before the military stint? Granted, Peter didn’t know much about Wade’s past – actually, scratch that. He knew about it. He’d researched the hero, way back when. He knew about the torture too, thanks to the little USB stick he still had somewhere.

    [Is he talking about Wade’s daddy?]

    “Sounds wrong when you say it like that,” Peter said, wrinkling his nose.

    {Does he think we don’t know?}

    “Bit insulting,” Peter agreed. “Let him talk?”

    {Kill him!}

    “We’ll get there,” Peter replied soothingly.

    [Let him talk. What happens if we’re wrong?]

    {We’re _never_ wrong!}

    [How many times have we been wrong in this story?] White demanded.

    Peter blinked. “Um… never?”

    “Your hero iss a murderer,” Liz hissed, apparently over listening to Peter talk to himself. “He killed in cold blood, long before he joined the military. Do you really know your hero ass well ass you think you do?”

    “I know him better than you,” Peter said. He smirked. “I know him _intimately_ , you see. Every nook and cranny of him is _mine_.”

    {You’re not gonna tear us away from him!}

    [But please, try.]

    “That was extraordinarily passive aggressive from you, White.”

    [I still think it’s the swirl’s fault.]

    {Shove a chainsaw up your ass,} Yellow snapped. {You’re _wrong_.}

    Peter danced away from Liz’s half-hearted swing. “Not the time,” he chided, ignoring the choking feeling in his throat. These damn _emotions_ were still so _new_ , throwing him every which way. He much preferred feeling little – the anger was easier, the bloodlust. Much easier than this… _caring_.

    “He killed hiss own father, and he enjoyed every ssecond of it!”

    [Very anticlimactic.]

    Peter sighed. “Yeah, I already knew that,” he replied, bored. “What?” he said, eyes flicking over Liz’s flabbergasted expression. “You think I can’t do my own research? You think I’d _miss_ something like that?”

    [Begs the question.]

    {What question?}

    “How did _you_ know?” Peter asked, taking a step forward. “You don’t strike me as the type to be capable of research, what with your little problem,” he wriggled his fingers, “and I doubt Wade ever popped up on your radar as anything other than a potential bump in the road.”

    [That question.]

    {Yeah, thanks. I got it.}

    “So, Liz,” Peter purred, dropping to all fours and scuttling closer, “wanna tell me why?”

    “He sspent months after Weapon X killing hiss way through hiss enemiess!” Liz snarled. He sounded desperate… And Peter wasn’t quite ready to believe the desperation was for making him believe Liz.

    Besides, he already knew that, too.

    Spider sense twitched, and Peter dodged left. A dart hit the concrete beside him, and Liz made a noise of frustration. Peter scurried forward the moment his mind processed what had just happened and picked up the dart, slipping it into one of his pouches – another idea he’d borrowed from Wade.

    What? Wade had good sense, damnit!

    “Not working alone,” Peter surmised, dodging another of Liz’s attacks. “I suppose it’s too much trouble to ask who’s behind all this, hmm? A bit of villain monologue-ing? No?”

    [We’ll find out, one way or another. But I vote Hydra.]

    {Seconded. I would prefer _us_ to be doing the hunting.}

    “Me three,” Peter agreed. “Guess it’s time to head on back.”

    He didn’t think he was quite ready. Not yet, anyway. Peter was still more of a rollercoaster than he thought he’d been even back when he’d first become the Spider. But everything inside him – even the boxes – agreed that he needed help now. Logan was… Somewhere, and it sounded like he had his own shit to deal with.

    Which was totally _Loki’s_ fault, by the way.

    [God of Mischief and all that.]

    {Poncy git,} Yellow muttered.

    “You’re sounding very British,” Peter noted, sizing up his opponent. Killing him seemed too simple – especially given that he’d helped free the lizard-man, and now Liz was apparently cool with betraying him. Which meant that Peter was owed a slice of cold, hard revenge.

    He did so like getting revenge.

    He lunged, fingers digging into and under Liz’s scaly armour, digging until he found flesh. Peter leaned back and yanked up his mask, baring his fangs. His fingers kept digging, tearing faster than Liz could heal.

    “Nice healing factor,” Peter noted absently, bloodlust flaring as warmth flowed over his fingers. “Interesting to see what’ll happen with this, hmm?”

    Peter sank his fangs into Liz’s flesh, venom pulsing from mouth and into Liz’s system. He ignored the sounds coming from Liz’s mouth, focusing on pumping as much venom as possible into the lizard-man. Served him right, although Peter was sure that, at any other time, he’d be delighted to hear Liz scream for him.

    An uncomfortable pressure closed around Peter’s ribs, and Liz threw him away, screaming curses at him. Venom still flooding from his mouth, Peter flew through the air.

    [Nice chat.]

    {Fuck you very much!}

    [You’ve got a bit of a boo-boo there.]

    {Want us to kiss it better?}

    Peter landed with a crunching sound, a wet gasp falling from his lips. He coughed, spitting blood onto the pavement beside him. “Damn,” he gasped, “Liz really doesn’t pull his punches.”

    {He didn’t _punch_ us, he _threw_ us.}

    [Damage?]

    “Ribs,” Peter grunted, pushing himself to his feet. Spider sense pinged again, and he dodged right. Another dart hit the wall behind him. Peter threw a lazy salute in the direction it had come from. “Thanks, darling!”

    {They’re shooting at us – why are we thanking them?}

    [We have reached a new level of crazy.]

    { _Awesome_.}

    [Of course you’d be excited about that. You need to sort out your priorities.]

    {It’s not like I’m Hermione Granger,} Yellow said. {No need to be so rude, _Ronald_.}

    “Actually,” Peter corrected, pulling the dart from the wall and putting it in his pouch, “Yellow would be Ron. White’s too much of a smart ass to be anyone but Harry. Which means _I’m_ Hermione.”

    { _Ha_! You’re a girl!}

    “I’ll have you know I look _fabulous_ in a dress,” Peter replied, staggering to his feet. “And I was _thanking_ them because more samples. More tests. For science.” He coughed again, pain flaring at the movement. He ignored it, giving himself a shake. “Hmm,” he said, “I think there’s something wrong with my ankle.”

    [You are so lucky we can’t throw up. Sweet Jesus.]

    {Trigger warning, mofo!}

    [Seriously. Bitch better hope she remembers to write out that warning, or there’s gonna be hell to pay.]

    Peter’s ankle was twisted at a sickening angle, bone jutting out from beneath his skin. The jagged end of bone had torn through his skin, startling white compared to the blood and skin. When Peter moved his leg, his foot flopped about awkwardly. Each movement sent shudders of pain up his leg, but Peter was _very_ good at ignoring pain.

    Peter leaned down to poke at it.

    [Dude, _why_?]

    {That’s gonna heal _so bad_.}

    “To the Tower,” Peter muttered. He took a couple of steps back, ignoring the agony screaming up his leg. “Shush,” he told his ankle crossly. “I have places to be, and I’m not letting you stop me from getting there.”

    “I’ll kill you!” Liz snarled. Peter glanced at him, amazed that he was still (sort of) standing. The lizard-man was holding the bitten arm, on one knee as he glared at Peter. Liz staggered to his feet, almost toppling back down into the sewers. “You and your preciouss hero.”

    Peter gave Liz a sunny smile. “You can try,” he replied, before taking a running leap and using his webs to swing away.

 

* * *

  

    Peter slammed into the glass. “That was a bad idea,” he said, blinking his eyes to clear his suddenly hazy vision. Pain he could handle – to a point. Apparently his body had had enough of the abuse it had been under as Peter swung he way towards the Tower. “Remind me, again, why we didn’t just go through the front?”

    [As if we could just walk in,] White scoffed. [They’d arrest us! Especially in this sexy new getup.]

    “I _knew_ you liked the suit!”

    {We can break the windows.}

    Peter snorted. “Break the glass and _everyone_ will be mad at me.” He knocked. “Yo, Jarvis? If I ask nicely, can I come in?”

    It took a moment for the AI to respond, voice loud enough to be heard through the glass. “We were not anticipating your arrival.”

    Grunting, Peter settled himself on the glass. “Look, no time for chit chat, Jarvis. Can I come in, or do I have to break in?”

    “The Tower has been upgraded in your absence.” The AI paused. “My scans tell me you are injured, Spider. Do you require medical attention?”

    [Why’s he asking that?]

    {Medical attention? Nah, we good.}

    “No, we are most definitely _not_ good,” Peter hissed, swaying on the glass. Medical attention sounded acceptable, but first… “Jarvis,” he whined. “Let me _in_.”

    [What are we, five?]

    The window opened silently, and Peter lost his grip, tumbling into the Tower. He groaned, face smushed into the cold floor. “Hey, if it works…” he mumbled.

    Someone stepped into the room. “Jarvis?”

    {Hey, it’s that guy!}

    “Whosit?” Peter managed to say. This was bad. He was hurt, worse than he thought. Definitely internal bleeding, then. In addition to the ribs and the ankle, Peter was actually surprised he hadn’t passed out yet.

    [You forgot his name?]

    {To be fair, we forget a lot of people’s names.}

    [We’ve never done it in this fic.]

    {Well _I_ have.}

    “Technicalities,” Peter replied. Only, it didn’t come out right. He frowned, fingers twitching against the cold floor. He meant to push himself up, but finger twitching seemed to be the extent of his capabilities. He huffed in annoyance.

    Spider sense crawled down his spine, adrenaline flaring, giving him enough strength to push himself onto his side. The dart flew in through the open window, smacking into the floor. The second dart – the one he hadn’t sensed, too caught up in the alarm from the first – glanced across Peter’s shoulder.

    [WHAT KIND OF IDIOT AI DOESN’T CLOSE THE DAMN WINDOW?]

    {How did they even shoot inside at that angle? How did they hit us? This seems a little impossible…}

    [You know who cares? NOT ME!]

    {Wow, okay. Sorry. I was having a go at being the smart one for once, and you just had to rain on my – holy _crap_ , what was that?}

    [What was what?]

    There was a faint whisper, a thought that Peter knew sure as hell didn’t belong to him. It pulsed like the beat of a heart. Whatever was in his system was reaching, dragging, _pulling_. And he wasn’t strong enough to fight it. Spider sense echoed after the whisper, noise melding together and twisting, yanking, _pulling_ …

    { _That_ ,} Yellow hissed.

    Peter groaned. “Jarvis,” he said, breathing slowly. Trying to stay awake, aware. “In my pouches. Test them. _Now_.” The last word was a growl, low and deep and altogether too desperate. But he didn’t care – he could feel it, feel it _pulling_ and he –

    Peter blacked out.

 

* * *

 

 

    _Kill them._ Yes. _Kill them._ Yes! _Kill them._ YES!

 

 

* * *

  

    Peter snapped back to himself with a snarl, the echoes of foreign voices whispering in his mind. He twisted, fingers tearing the needle from his wrist. He paused, panting, limbs trembling with something that _might_ have been horror.

    “Where?” he panted, eyes flicking around the familiar room. Medical wing, Tower. Safe, free of the pulling and the voices and the –

    [What the _fuck_ was that?]

    {We’re back. Where did we go?}

    Well. Free of _some_ of the voices.

    [Are we back?]

    {Oi, Spidey!}

    Peter huffed. “We’re awake, we’re alive,” he said. “What in the ass happened?”

    “Spider?”

    Peter jerked. “Jarvis?”

    “You recognize me, then.”

    [Hard to forget your beautiful British accent.]

    {Always so proper. What do you think it would take to make him lose it?}

    [He’s an AI, Yellow. Calm yourself. Seriously.]

    “You have been… You were under the influence of an as yet unidentified serum for 4 hours,” Jarvis explained. “You have been unconscious for one hour.”

    [Three hours…]

    “What did I do?” Peter demanded, jumping out of the hospital bed. “Don’t sugar coat it, Jarvis.”

    “The better question,” Jarvis replied, “would be what _didn’t_ you do.”

    [Oh, that doesn’t sound good.]

    {I like the sound of that!}

    “I,” Peter croaked. He stopped, thought for a moment. There was an aching feeling, behind his ribs, that only intensified the more he thought. “Unidentified?” he asked instead of whatever half put together excuses or apologies he’d been about to utter.

    “Doctor Banner and Mr Stark are currently testing the samples you acquired,” Jarvis replied. “As yet, they’re at a loss to describe what they are looking at. They thought perhaps you might be able to shed some light on the situation.”

    Someone entered the room, and Peter whirled around – defensive, his instincts were still screaming at him that something was wrong – to see Wade, decked out in his Deadpool gear, complete with his katanas and guns. The tension melted from Peter’s frame.

    [{Wade!}] the boxes chorused, relieved.

    “Wade!” Peter sang, launching himself at the hero. He was so pleased to see the other man – his heart was literally swelling with joy. He had expected to feel good seeing the hero, but _this_ feeling of… Of wholeness? Of _completion_? It was unexpected. He wanted to hug Wade and never let him go again.

    Wade… _flinched_.

    It was a tiny flinch, almost invisible. To the untrained eye, Wade hadn’t moved a muscle. But to Peter, the flinch was like an alarm, causing him to pull up short. Peter cocked his head, eyes running over the broad, familiar figure.

    He was used to people being scared of him. Peter knew he wasn’t a hero, knew he’d never again bring the sort of hope and pride to people’s eyes like Wade and the Avengers could. He was _used_ to seeing the hope _die_ in people’s eyes – in fact, he enjoyed it.

    But Wade… Wade wasn’t supposed to be scared of him. _Ever_. Even the event in his apartment all those months – years? – ago hadn’t ever been meant to inspire fear into Wade. He’d just wanted _answers_ and Wade had been a simple solution. Now he knew he’d gone about it wrong, but now…

    Now, Wade was _flinching_ away from him, like he was one of the _monsters_ from Weapon X.

    [What the fuck did we do?]

    {No, it’s what we didn’t do,} Yellow corrected. {Spidey, this is wrong.}

    When Peter had imagined their reunion, there had been a lot less silent staring and a lot more kissing. He rocked back on his heels, biting his lip. He reached up and yanked his mask completely off his head, staring into the eyes of Wade’s mask.

    “Jarvis,” Peter said, and Wade’s fingers tightened into telling fists, “what did I do to Wade?”

    “I am afraid I have been advised against telling you,” Jarvis replied promptly.

    [ _Advised_?]

    {Better than being forbidden.}

    Peter glared at the ceiling. “Well, I’m advising you to _tell me_.”

    “I do not think that’s the wisest course of action. I must decline.”

    {Pompous git!}

    [If there was a way to make AI’s hurt, I would be all for it right now.]

    “Someone better explain to me what the _hell_ is going on before I bust out of here and leave,” Peter snarled through gritted teeth.

    “Spidey!” Mimic shrieked, landing on his back. Peter jumped in surprise – he hadn’t even heard her approaching.

    “Mimic,” he said, happy that _someone_ was reacting normally to his presence. He reached up to at her hands, and the smile slid from his face when his fingers encountered bandages instead of skin.

    {Who the _fuck_ hurt you?} Yellow snarled.

    [Point ‘em out,] White said, voice hard and dark. [And we’ll _end_ them.]

    Her hands jumped away from him, and when Peter turned around Mimic smiled at him. “It’s good to see you,” she said.

    Peter’s eyes flicked over her, identifying the multitude of wounds on her body with frightening ease. “Mimic…” he said quietly, a warning in his voice.

    “I’m fine,” she replied stubbornly.

    {Don’t lie to us! We _hate_ liars.}

    [Obviously _not_ fine if you needed to be bandaged so much,] White pointed out. [You’ve been fighting with someone. Fighting with someone to stay alive.]

    {Someone attacked you with the intention of killing you!} Yellow raged. {Torture, even! Don’t pretend to be fine – we can recognize the injuries of someone who’s been fighting tooth and nail!}

    Peter jerked back, eyes widening. “With _us_ ,” he whispered.

    {Say what now?}

    [ _Fuck_ ,] White hissed.

    Mimic held up her bandaged hands. “Spidey, it’s _fine_. It wasn’t you.”

    Peter backed up, shaking his head from side to side. His fingers were itching, aching, and when Peter glanced at them they were red. He stared at them, wondering why he could feel them ripping into flesh when they were so obviously _not_.

    [ _Finally_. A flashback.]

    Peter blinked, and suddenly he wasn’t sure where he was, or who he was. He wanted to move, wanted to speak, but there was only –

    _Pain. Disappointment. He wasn’t efficient, wasn’t perfect. The tests were not conclusive. Reaching down, snapping his ankle back into place. The pain registered briefly, but it didn’t matter._

Kill them _. His orders were clear. He_ needed _to obey – it was imperative. Who ‘they’ were didn’t matter – he needed blood on his hands, blood on the floor, a life snuffed out like a candle. He_ needed _it, now._

 _“Spidey?” said the person, and he felt_ pleased _. There is a ‘them’, something to be killed. The need to obey overrode everything, and he lunged._

 _Panic turned the air sour, but he_ liked _sour. Wanted more of it, wanted to bathe in it. The blood was warm under his fingers, and he could feel his prey struggling. Ineffective, weak. The change in shape was interesting, exciting… But he had his orders._

_He was not prepared for a second ‘them’ to appear, knocking him off his initial target and sending him flying into the air. He rolled, landing in a crouch as he surveyed his new target._

_Big. Bigger than him. Bigger meant slower. Wearing thin armour, in bold and bright colours that made his instincts rebel. Bright and bold meant poison, after all._

Kill them _. The order came through again, sharp and clear. He was being disappointing. He couldn’t be disappointing. He needed to obey._

_He jumped, mouth flooding with venom, and the bright-bold-poison ‘them’ suddenly had claws. Katanas, he thought absently, dodging the sharp edges gracefully. He couldn’t get hurt – if he got hurt, he would be punished._

_He knew he wouldn’t like it if he was punished. Better to kill this ‘them’ than be punished._

Wade _, he thought suddenly, horror rising up to choke him, blinding clarity making him stumble. The katana cut into his arm._

Kill them!

_He lunged again, driven forward by the overwhelming need to please, to obey. His hand disappeared into flesh, and the ‘them’ made a disbelieving noise. He fell, dead._

Excellent _. He preened, pleased to be of use, pleased to be praised._ Finish the next one… Slower _. He glanced at the ‘them’ still on the ground, and smiled._

_His mind was full of what he could do – the various methods he knew of making people hurt, making them scream – when a hand latched around his previously broken ankle._

_But… Dead? He had… He had killed? He had been praised. He had been_ good _, a good killer, a good soldier…_

_“Spider,” the ‘them’ rasped. “Whatever’s going on, fight it.”_

Don’t fight. Kill _. He obeyed, slamming his foot down on the person’s head until the hand released his ankle, the head a red mark on the floor. And then he turned back to the ‘them’ on the ground. The ‘them’ already gasping in pain, and he wanted to make them_ scream _._

Peter swallowed around the horror in his throat as he came back to himself. Shit. Shit, shit, _fucking shit_. He turned, ignoring the voices – not the ones in his head, he could hardly ever ignore those – and left the hospital room.

    […No wonder he’s afraid of us,] White said.

    {What the _fuck_ was that?}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY FINISHED IT! Hoooooo boy. This took me ages and there was so much going I was like "slow doooowwwwnnn". Of course, that didn't happen.
> 
> Okay, so. This fic is taking me longer and longer to write chapters. I'm pretty sure this happened with TBWR, so I'm probably going to take a break for a bit from this fic, and focus on my other ones until I feel more creatively inclined to write this one. Because really, there's absolutely no use beating a dead horse.
> 
> I will _not_ be abandoning this. Not now, not ever. Not until it's done. But I _am_ taking a break from it. Sorry.
> 
> Let me know what you think of the chapter - and what you think might happen next :D


	14. Chapter 14

    Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The new suit was doing well against the environment, water and waste sliding straight off, and Peter had been down there long enough to grow accustomed to the smell. The sewers had been his mission for the last four hours – after he’d left the Tower, taken a breather, he knew he needed to find the one person who might just have some answers for him.

    [I think some shit just floated by.]

    {At least it’s not another sewer monster.}

    [That crocodile was _huge_.]

    {Wasn’t it an alligator?]

    [How does one tell the difference?]

    {You think I’d know?}

    [No, but Spidey would.]

    {Oh. But he’s not talking to us.}

    [To be fair, he’s not talking to anyone.]

    {I feel like we need to kill something.}

    [Because _that_ ended so well for us last time.]

    Peter shuddered, feeling his stomach churn. He wiped his mouth again. The last thing he needed was to throw up. Again. The faint memory of a skull crushed beneath his foot had him gagging.

    {Soooo, why are we down here?}

    [Subtle with the subject change.]

    {I’m not particularly fond of blowing chunks.}

    [… You make an excellent point.]

    {Thank you.}

    [And to answer your question, and to satisfy the readers curiosity, we’re down here to find Liz.]

    {Good old Dr Connors.}

    Peter crawled along the tunnel, following the lines of little lizards that were marching in one direction with purpose. So far, he’d been unsuccessful at tracking down the giant lizard, but Peter had a feeling that this time he’d be luckier.

    The Avengers didn’t know where he was. None of them. Even Mimic couldn’t find him – Peter had made his mind that odd scramble of thoughts that seemed to be invisible to her mental voodoo. He was alone.

    {I’m still here!}

    [As am I.]

    Peter was as alone as he could be. He crawled along the ceiling of the tunnel, movements perfectly silent.         There was no way Doctor Connors would know he was coming.

    Which was why he was startled when his spider sense abruptly started to blare, an urgent warning that sent him scuttling left. He only barely managed to dodge the clawed hand reaching for his ankle, and the instinctive web to the face of his opponent almost pulled him off the ceiling.

    [We are beauty.]

    {We are grace.}

    “I owe you a punch in the face,” Peter snarled, launching himself at the lizard-man to do just that. Whatever damage Peter had done previously had since healed, but Peter was more than happy to re-make each and every one of the wounds.

    The two of them grappled for a time, slamming each other into the sewer walls and both unafraid to try and kill their opponent. Peter was numb to the pain as Liz tore through the suit, finally reaching his fragile skin. Not that it mattered – he deserved to bleed, deserved it for being so _weak_.

    Finally, Peter pinned the worse for wear, overgrown lizard to the sewer ceiling, webbing each of his remaining limbs to the concrete and settling himself with fingers poised beneath Liz’s vulnerable eyes.

    “I hate healing eyes,” Peter said absently when Liz froze. “They take so long, and sight is such an important aspect of killing someone. The look on their faces when they realize they _fucked up_.”

    Liz bared his teeth. “Do it then. Kill me.”

    “I thought you and I were on the same side,” Peter continued, “when I saved your ass from that shitty fucking prison. I thought you I were on the same side when I decided _against_ killing you. And then, I find out you started working for _Hydra_.”

    “A mutually beneficial partnersship,” Liz snapped. “I don’t work _for_ them.”

    [Mutually beneficial my ass.]

    {They baited you.}

    [Hydra doesn’t share.]

    {Probably planned to lock you up too, after all was said and done.}

    Peter lifted a hand and knocked his temple. “I’m talking, so shut up,” he said, pressing his fingers a little harder against the soft skin just below Liz’s eyes. “All of you. This isn’t the time to be a smart ass, this is the time to be a bad ass.”

    {But we have a great ass,} Yellow whispered.

    [Squats.]

    “You’re not a complete idiot, you have to know that whatever they promised you doesn’t mean shit,” Peter snapped. “They’re probably planning on experimenting on _you_.”

    “They wouldn’t dare.”

    [Funny, we would have said that too.]

    {Hahahaha!}

    “What was the serum?” Peter asked. “And what does Hydra want?”

    Liz snorted. “I’m not one to ruin the fun,” he replied.

    Peter blinked at him, tilting his head to the side. “You don’t know,” he murmured. “You don’t know what the serum is, and you’re terrified.”

    Liz’s tail broke free of Peter’s webbing, and without a second thought Peter activated his web-shooters and sprayed his specially manufactured webbing all over Liz’s lashing tail. The wounded noise Liz emitted as the powdered glass tore through his scales like paper filled Peter with a dark delight.

    “You’re afraid they’ll use it on you,” Peter continued, the pieces falling into place too neatly to be anything but the truth. “You must have been watching – someone as smart as you wouldn’t let something so important pass you by.”

    {Can we kill him?} Yellow asked hopefully. {I want to know what he tastes like.}

    “You are disgusting,” Peter replied, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I don’t need to eat people anymore.”

    [Technically, he’s not really a person anymore,] White pointed out.

    “I didn’t come here to kill him,” Peter snapped. He paused, cocking his head. “Well. I _did_ , but first I wanted answers.”

    [We’ve established he doesn’t _have_ answers,] White snapped. [Just kill him.]

    Peter’s fingers curled around Liz’s wrist, tight enough to feel the bones creaking and grinding against each other. “The boxes are really pushing for you to die,” he informed his cocooned prey. “I think they’re more scared about what happened to me than you are.”

    {Scared?!} Yellow screeched.

    [Fuck off,] White snarled.

    “Oh? What other reason do you have?” Peter demanded.

    The boxes were both silent for a moment. Peter waited patiently, half his attention focused on his surroundings. There was no reason for him to be safe down here, no guarantee that Hydra weren’t tracking Liz down right now. Whatever security he’d had with – _at the Tower_ , it was gone. He was back to where he’d been, before his life had been turned upside down.

    He couldn’t trust himself, not anymore. So the people he loved, the people he cared about… They had to be kept away.

    [Fine,] White huffed. [We’re scared.]

    {Speak for yourself,} Yellow muttered petulantly.

    [You couldn’t hear us again. We were shouting at you, screaming to get your attention… And then we were _gone_. Do you even remember what that feels like?]

    Peter flinched. “Of course I do,” he snapped back. “Four hours, in comparison to _months_? Don’t tell me you’re getting soft.”

    {Four hours and _look what you did!_ } Yellow screeched. Peter’s grip tightened again, turning Liz’s wrist bones into powder. He barely heard the lizard-man’s groans of pain over Yellow. {You _ruined_ everything we had! You killed _Wade_ , you hurt _Mimic_ , you were too weak to fight off some stupid mind shit!}

    “I didn’t have any warning! I had no help! There’s only so much I can handle before it gets too much!”

    [And we all know how fond you are of trying to handle too much, right?] White sounded positively venomous.

    Peter sucked in a breath, feeling his muscles clenching as through preparing to flee. He forced himself to relax – he couldn’t run away from this. “That was a low blow, asshole,” he hissed. “You can’t bring that up out of the blue.”

    [Doesn’t mean it’s not true.]

    Peter meant to reply, but Liz’s hand was suddenly around his throat. Peter snarled, trying to twist away, but in the blink of an eye Liz had him pinned to the floor, half-submerged in sewer water. He wrapped his tail around Peter’s ribs, tightening it so that it was just shy of breaking Peter’s ribs.

    “The tabless have turned,” Liz hissed. “I sshould take you to Hydra mysself.”

    Peter sneered. “Go on then,” he challenged. “Do it. Or have you realized that I’m making a lot of fucking sense for someone who’s supposed to be insane?”

    [Because it’s such a good idea to make him mad.]

    {I wanna bite him,} Yellow whined.

    “You made ssome good pointss, but that doessn’t mean I can’t keep you _here_ … I need to find out how to reversse thiss transsformation, and you will be the key.” Liz’s eyes raked over Peter. “Your blood… Your bone marrow… The ansswer iss in you.”

    “Ew,” Peter replied. “That’s fucking creepy, man. Like, I know I can be a bit eh but _seriously_?”

    [Carnivore, carnivore,] White hummed.

    {Won’t you come digest me?}

    [Take away everything I am.]

    “Bring it to an end…”

    {Make me fall, make me bleed!}

    [Maybe this is what we need?]

    {A do-over?}

    [A fresh start.]

    {We’ve had a few though.}

    [One more can’t hurt.]

    “Carnivore, carnivore,” Peter sang softly, the fight vanishing in an instant. “Go ahead and change me. Take away everything I am.”

    Liz hissed, and the last thing Peter saw before he blacked out was several figures sneaking towards them.

 

* * *

 

    Peter woke up in a luxurious hotel room. The walls were covered in tasteful silver and gold wallpaper, and the furniture looked hella comfortable. There was a huge window with a view, looking out at the prettiest beach Peter had ever seen.

    [Give it a rest,] White muttered.

    {We fucking wish.}

    Peter sighed, wriggling against his bonds. “It was worth a shot,” he replied, looking around his new room. While it certainly didn’t have nice wallpaper or comfortable furniture, he thought the bloody torture devices lining the wall in front of him were a nice touch.

    [This is obviously not Liz’s hideout.]

    Peter shook his head. “Nah, we’re in Hydra’s territory.” He giggled. “I must have hurt their feelings when I went after Weapon X.”

    {They _were_ next,} Yellow said.

    “But only because of that file,” Peter maintained. “Otherwise I couldn’t have cared less about them.”

    A door opened behind him with an ominous creak. “Ah, Mr Parker. Lovely to have you with us.”

    Peter arched his back, titling his head back to look at the tiny man who’d entered his cell. “Hey Tiny, how’s it hanging?”

    [So little…]

    {How does someone stay that small?} Yellow asked, sounding fascinated. {Is he allergic to growing?}

    [I’ll bet his dick is as big as our pinkie.]

    “I think that’s being a bit generous,” Peter replied, following the little man with his eyes as he walked around in front of him.

    {He can’t have a dick! Impossible!}

    “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” the man said.

    Peter blinked at him. “Not really,” he admitted.

    The man tilted his head curiously. “Oh?”

    Peter nodded at the room around him. “This is your rape dungeon, isn’t it? Normally, I’d be worried, but you’re so little!”

    The man looked a little thrown, but he looked away from Peter to scribble something on the pad of paper in his hands. “I am afraid, Mr Parker, that you are incorrect. This is a high tech facility run by Hydra, and you are our latest test subject.”

    [{High tech?}] the boxes echoed.

    “Oh. Uhuh. Riiight. I see.” Peter looked around himself slowly. “High tech. I see.”

    The man actually blushed. “Yes, well, I can see why you might be a little underwhelmed…”

    “Underwhelmed?” Peter snorted. “Colour me unimpressed, Tiny.”

    [Colour me white.]

    {And me yellow!}

    “But I’m afraid I can’t take you for a tour of the facility. You see, you’re part of a rather unique experiment.”

    “Am I indeed?” Peter drawled, eyes sharp as he studied the man in front of him. Weakness, weakness, _weakness_ … What the fuck was Hydra playing at?

    Tiny smiled at him tremulously. “Our first test was a rather spectacular success, I was told. But Hydra wants the formula tweaked, if only because it appears that Mr Stark somehow got his hands on some of it.”

    [Son of a bitch.]

    {This is the bastard that made us kill Wade!}

    Peter narrowed his eyes. “That does sound unfortunate,” he agreed slowly. “And what are you going to do with me while the formula is tweaked?”

    Tiny giggled. “Well, the new formula will take some time, and I was told that you were rather… Stubborn.”

    It clicked, and Peter relaxed back into his bonds, a manic grin on his face. “So you’re going to try and break me, is that it?”

    [{We wish you all the best.}]

    “I mean,” Peter continued, watching as Tiny moved about the room with purpose, “do you really believe you have what it takes to mess me up even more?”

    [Torture hasn’t really been tried yet.]

    “But pain has never been an issue,” Peter pointed out.

    {Maybe it’s different if someone else does it?}

    Peter snorted. “You mean someone like Tiny?”

    The shock of electricity coursing through his body had Peter’s jaw clenching, teeth sinking into his tongue. When the electricity stopped, Peter spat a glob of blood out onto the white floor. He admired the contrast for a moment before he glared at Tiny.

    “That was rude,” he said.

    Tiny chuckled. “I would say forgive me, but I think you’re going to find a lot of what I’m about to do rude.” With a trembling smile, the man approached Peter, a pair of wicked looking forceps. “Please don’t hate me too much…”

 

* * *

  

    Peter panted, alone for the first time in hours. He giggled to himself, twitching his broken fingers and snorting at the answering lance of pain.

    [Fun party.]

    {Where are our refreshments?} Yellow demanded.

    Peter would have replied, but one of the first things Tiny had done was cut out his tongue, and the appendage had yet to grow back. He wiggled what was left of his tongue, snickering at the odd feeling.

    [Do we take stock of injuries?]

    {No point! Tiny will be back to give us more!} Yellow giggled. {Gimme gimme more, gimme more, gimme gimme  _more_!}

    [I feel like he thinks this is effective.]

    {It’s fun!}

    Peter bobbed his head, cracking his neck. The sound was loud in the silent room – apparently, Hydra thought it needed to be soundproof. If it did, it was only to mask Peter’s mocking laughter, because Peter refused to scream. The worst thing was losing his tongue; everything else – the broken bones, the knives in his skin, the nails scattered on the floor – were annoying.

    [He’ll start to get serious soon.]

    {Everything we’ve ever deserved!} Yellow crowed. {Excited, Spidey?}

    [Never mind that it won’t _do_ anything,] White pointed out. [It won’t make us feel better. It won’t get us out of here.]

    {I don’t know; I think I’ll feel pretty good watching Spidey writhe in pain.}

    [He _doesn’t_ writhe, that’s the point,] White said, sounding frustrated. [Can you just be a good sport?]

    Peter shook his head. _I don’t think so. How long are we staying before we break out?_

    { _Can_ you break out?} Yellow asked.

    _Probably,_ Peter replied with a shrug. His fingers protested at the movement. _Only one way to find out._

    Before Peter could, someone gasped. He jerked his head up – he hadn’t heard the door open, had someone else been in here the entire time?

    And then questions didn’t matter, because Peter was staring at none other than Malachi.

    [Surprise.]

    {Bet you didn’t see that coming, did ya?}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I skipped over the torture this time. Horray! 
> 
> I am so sorry it's taken me so long to update, but I haven't been completely inactive - I've been updating a new work (Harry Potter fanfic, I'm afraid, no new Spideypool) which has been fun! I don't know when this will get updated again, as it's getting awfully close to Christmas and I am unprepared.
> 
> That being said, if I don't manage to update again before Christmas, I wish you all a happy holiday (regardless of your beliefs or non-beliefs) and hope to see you all safely on the other side!


	15. Chapter 15

    Peter made a noise of confusion, which only intensified when he realized that the edges of Malachi’s body were transparent. It was almost as though Malachi were some kind of projection, but why would there be a projection of Malachi in his cell?

    “Shit,” the kid said, moving towards Peter. “Are you alright?”

    Peter took a moment to realize that the Malachi projection – he didn’t know, yet, what else to think of it as, and the boxes were still stuck in mindless bickering as they tried to decide if Malachi was really there or just a hallucination – was paler than Peter remembered Malachi being. There were scars decorating the skin that Peter could see, dark, vicious things that Peter suspected would look eerily similar to the scars he was in the process of collecting.

    “I’m Mal,” Malachi introduced himself as he hovered close to Peter. Peter couldn’t sense any warmth from the body near him, and that just made him more certain this was a projection or a hallucination. “They can’t have had you for long – I drift through here almost every day.” Sounding resigned, Malachi continued. “I’m down the hall. I’ve been stuck here for…” The kid sighed again. “I don’t know anymore.”

    Peter made a questioning noise, cocking his head as he studied the projection of the boy he’d met once. He shouldn’t have been interesting – except that Mimic couldn’t hear his name.

    {What is going on?}

    [We’re about to find out. Calm down.]

    {1v1 me, I dare you!}

    _How did we get here?_ Peter wondered.

    “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about being rescued,” Mal continued seriously. “No one knows you’re gone. Probably no one that cares, anyway.”

    [We would have known, if we’d been allowed to go visit him that one time we asked.]

    _That’s a long time to be missing,_ Peter noted. _And to have no one notice._

    {Poor Mal. We can bust him out, right?}

    [Maybe after we’re finished being tortured,] White replied.

    {The longer we’re here, the longer he’s here,} Yellow pointed out.

    [A few more weeks won’t kill him.]

    _They’ve kept him alive for a reason,_ Peter pointed out. _I’m curious as to why._

    {I don’t think this projection thing is normal. Mutant?}

    [We can’t ask him until our tongue grows back. _If_ it grows back.]

    {You’re doubting our sick heals?}

    [I think he’s just going to keep cutting it out, to be honest.]

    Peter flexed his hands, noting absently that the pain had stopped. A few of his fingers had actually healed incorrectly, at odd angles and Peter could feel the odd grinding that meant he’d have to break the bones again. He cleared his throat, catching Malachi’s attention, and gestured at him, tilting his head again.

    “You want to know why I’m here?” Malachi checked. At Peter’s nod, he sighed. “I guess because I’m a mutant, but I could be wrong. I don’t really know what’s going on.”

    Peter mouthed the word powers, and Malachi blinked. “You know, I don’t know. This,” he waved at himself, “just happened. When I’m like this, I can’t feel my body.”

    The bitterness in Malachi’s voice told Peter that the kid had been stuck for a fair while – which he’d already said, but time got distorted in these places, a minute becoming an hour and an hour a day. Malachi didn’t sound afraid anymore – and that, for Peter, who had tortured people before, was the biggest indicator of how long Malachi had been here.

    The faint relief told Peter how much pain he’d been through, and that sent something that felt a lot like fury racing through his limbs.

    White groaned. [Not again.]

    {Are we being attacked by the swirl again?} Yellow whined.

    _I think this time, I can agree. What the fuck has this kid done to end up down here?_ Peter seethed.

    “I think they’re using me,” Malachi said abruptly. “Even before I came here… I had these blanks. In my memories. Whole parts of a day just gone.” He stared steadily at Peter. “There’s someone else here. He’s not here often, just enough that I’ve seen him once or twice.” Something in his expression shifted. “I think he’s being used too.”

    [ _Two_ people? You want us to _save_ two people?]

    {Are you high?}

    [We can’t get high, moron.]

    {If anyone’s a moron here, it’s you!}

    Peter heaved a sigh. It looked like his little vacation in hell was at an end. Breaking his restraints required enough effort that he was actually rather impressed – Hydra really weren’t fucking around with keeping him locked up. But it wasn’t strong enough to _keep_ him trapped, which meant that –

    {Boring. How about we talk about the look on Malachi’s face right now?}

    With an irritated snort, Peter shook his head. He regarded his hands before quickly and efficiently snapping his wrongly healed fingers, earning a wide eyed look from Malachi. Peter reset his fingers, humming a song to himself as he felt the bones start to knit back together.

    {What I wouldn’t give for some ice cream sticks right now,} Yellow said wistfully.

    Peter shrugged. The bones would heal eventually, and if they healed incorrectly again, he could just break them. He turned his attention to the room, spying a conveniently forgotten pen and a stack of paper. A quick skim of the paper revealed more about Hydra’s plans – they were really stupid to leave something so valuable in the open.

    **Do you want to escape with me?** Peter wrote, showing the paper to Malachi. When the kid failed to respond, Peter rolled his eyes. **C’mon, cupcake. We haven’t got all day, you know.**

    “I – we can’t just leave!”

    **Of course not. That’s why I said ‘escape’ and not ‘leave’. Escaping sounds more fun!**

    [What about the other guy?] White asked. [Are we risking our asses for him too?]

    {Nooo,} Yellow whined. {I don’t wanna!}

    [We have to leave someone behind. Don’t want people to think we’ve gone _soft_.]

    _They can think we’ve gone soft all they like,_ Peter thought in response. _It’ll make kicking their asses a million times more fun._

    “You can get us out?” Malachi whispered, fear in his expression. There was hope, too, and in a flash Petr understood that Malachi was scared of hoping. “You promise?”

    **You have no idea who you’re talking to,** Peter wrote, smirking a little at how accurate that was. **I’ll get us out of here – if we see that buddy of yours, we’ll get him too. Now. Where are you?**

 

* * *

   

    Malachi’s body was restrained in almost exactly the same position as Peter’s had been, except his restraints were less heavy duty than Peter’s had been. Peter pulled them off with barely any effort. The ghostly projection melted back into his body, and with a soft exhale Malachi… fell from the table.

    Peter blinked at him, cocking his head. **Too weak to stand?** he wrote, crouching down so that he was at eye level. Not that it mattered – Malachi’s eyes were hardly open. Peter poked him until one eye was open enough to read his question.

    Malachi gave a tiny nod. “It’s hard… being physical,” he panted quietly. “I’ve been… wraithing… for most of my… time here.”

    {Wraithing? He calls it _wraithing_?}

    [Is he trying to be edgy?]

    {That’s so _cool_!}

    [It’s fucking idiotic, that’s what it is.]

    {He’s _such_ a teenager!}

    [Moronic.]

    _Shut up_ , Peter thought. _I guess we have to find out about his friend._

    Peter poked Malachi again. **Your friend. The one you mentioned earlier. Where do we find him?**

    “I thought… it was just… if we… saw him,” Malachi panted.

    **I’m a changeable person. You wanna save him or not?**

    Malachi pointed weakly the way they’d come. “He’s below. I don’t… know exactly where… but he’ll be down… there if he’s…. here at all.”

    {We’re going down down in an earlier round!}

    [And sugar we’re going down swinging.]

    Peter rose to his feet, shaking out his limbs and checking over his wounds. He went as far to open his mouth and wriggle his still growing tongue, which made Malachi flinch.

    **Be back soon, sugar. You stay right here.**

    Skipping from the cell with an over the shoulder wave, Peter turned in the direction Malachi had pointed him in and started walking. He could feel his tongue growing little by little, and hoped that by the time he was back, he’d be able to talk properly.

    He hadn’t written so much in so long – his hand was cramping something fierce.

    The first person he came across was, surprise surprise, Tiny. Peter felt his face stretch into a wide grin as the little man trotted towards him, utterly oblivious to his presence. Usually in these situations, Peter would have said something to initiate the shitting pants reaction he so craved, but without his tongue, he was left with silent stalking or jump scares.

    [Our writer is getting lazy.]

    {Or she wants to reward us because we’ve actually been suuuuuper quiet this whole time!}

    _Either or,_ Peter thought. _I’m not going to pass up on this opportunity at any rate._

    [Web him?]

    {Leave him for after we’ve found Malachi’s friend?}

    [If we leave him, we’ll never find him again. He’ll slip through our not so broken fingers.]

    _White is right,_ Peter thought.

    [So _there_.]

    {But Spideyyyyy,} Yellow whined. {I want to be right for once!}

    Peter launched himself at Tiny, easily knocking the smaller man into a wall. Peter made a gleeful sound when Tiny started to scream, hand slapping across his torturer’s mouth hard enough for teeth to indent Peter’s palm.

    He made a purring sound in his throat when Tiny struggled, dropping his precious notes on the hallway floor. With a single motion, Peter webbed the man’s mouth closed and bent down to pick up the scattered papers.

    {What did we do that for? We don’t need that!}

    [We need to see what this says,] White replied. [It’ll make it easier to figure out what they did to us – and what they were planning.]

    {We need blood under our nails!} Yellow ranted, ignoring White completely. {We need screams in the air, we need someone dying by _our_ hands! We don’t need some stupid pieces of paper!}

    “Why not both?” Peter asked, but his tongue still wasn’t quite all there so the words came out choppy and indistinct.

    Tiny was obviously trying to speak, but with the thick spray of webbing covering the lower half of his face (Peter had been nice and left his nose uncovered), he had no chance of being heard.

    “Hello, Tiny,” Peter said pleasantly. It was annoying, speaking with a not-completely-there tongue, but Peter had had worse. “How nice to see you.”

    With effortless strength, Peter picked up the other man and carried him into what used to be Peter’s cell. He bound the struggling man into the chair he’d been stuck in for however long this little vacation had lasted, and then stepped away.

    “Now,” he began, “I’m going to leave you here for a bit. Suspense, I’ve heard, is the real killer.” Peter winked at the squirming man.

    {Good one!}

    [That’s the best you could come up with? I’m disappointed.]

    {You’re a dick, that’s what you are.}

    “Thank you, Yellow. Fuck you, White. As I said, I’m going to leave you here. My friend has another friend here, you see, and he really doesn’t want to leave without him. I know, right? Me? _Friends?_ Shocking, it’s true. Anyway. Where was I?”

    {Friend that doesn’t want to leave without other friend,} Yellow prompted.

    “Again, thank you Yellow. So I’m going to go look for this friend, and when I find him, I’ll come back for you.” Peter ran a finger lovingly down the side of Tiny’s face. “I have so many gifts for you, you see. That’s what you thought of all those pains you gave me, isn’t it? They were gifts.” Peter sighed. “Awfully nice of you, but I’m something of an Indian giver – what you give me, I give back.”

    [That was cleverer.]

    {Yeah, Spidey is the best!}

    [Wait. Don’t Indian givers pass things they’ve received onto other people…?]

    {Technicality. Shush.}

    “While I’m gone, you can worry about what exactly I’m going to do with you. Because we have a few hours, don’t we? Before someone comes to check what’s taking you so long. That’s what happened last time. I remember.”

    [Aaaand he just pissed himself. Wonderful.]

    {Warning!} Yellow screeched.

    Peter wrinkled his nose. “That,” he informed the now sobbing man, “was disgusting. I hope you’re proud of yourself – you’ve grossed me out. _Me_! Of all people.” Peter patted Tiny on the cheek. “See you later,” he said.

 

* * *

  

    It turned out Peter didn’t need to find Malachi’s friend. Malachi’s friend found him, and he was not happy.

    {A metal arm!} Yellow squealed.

    [That’s going to hurt.]

    Peter caught said metal arm, bending it away from him as he studied it. “This is awesome,” he informed the shaggy haired man, who was watching him with dead eyes. “Seriously, I’m impressed. Maybe not 110% natural like dear old me, but still. Props, dude.”

    With a wordless snarl, the man kicked back and away, pulling his arm from Peter’s grip and putting a good bit of distance between them. Peter smiled and offered him a little wave.

    [Brainwashed?]

    {A metal arm!}

    Peter winced and rubbed his right temple. “I mean,” he said, “he’s all blank and starey. I’d say brainwashed. Or braindead. Which is it, buddy?”

    The man leaped at Peter, and with the speed and skill of a spider, Peter dodged and neatly knocked him out. He fell in a pile at Peter’s feet with a groan.

    “I guess we’ll find out when he wakes up,” Peter said, picking up the unconscious man and slinging him over his shoulder.

    [We could have played with him,] White pointed out petulantly.

    {A metal arm!} Yellow screeched.

    [Will you shut up already!] White snapped.

    {But a metal arm!} Yellow screeched back.

    “Leave it,” Peter sighed. “He hasn’t been this excited for a while.”

    [That’s a good thing!]

    “And anyway,” Peter continued, skipping back the way they’d come. “We have Tiny to play with!”

    {Can _we_ have a metal arm?} Yellow asked, almost sounding as though he was jumping up and down around in Peter’s head. {Can we _please_?}

    Peter scoffed. “And ruin this perfection?” he demanded, sweeping a hand down his own body. “Yellow, no. Please. You can swoon over this guy’s arm as much as you like – I don’t like such heavy handed enhancements.”

    A beat of silence before his boxes snickered. [I see what you did there,] White said.

    {Good one!}

    “Thank you, thank you,” Peter replied, sketching out a shallow bow. “Your acknowledgment means so much to me.”

    [So hang on,] White said, and Peter sensed that whatever the box was about to say was going to effectively ruin his mood. [We can’t take these two with us.]

    {What do you mean?} Yellow whined. {Of course we can – we can do whatever we want!}

    “Slumber party,” Peter agreed with a smile, skipping through the door to Malachi’s cell. “Who doesn’t love a good slumber party, huh?”

    Malachi was blinking at him with wide eyes, obviously taking in the sight of Peter – who, may it be noted, hardly had a body that could be considered muscular – carrying another man – who was a good deal thicker then Peter and had the added weight of a metal arm – over his shoulder like a half-filled backpack. Peter just grinned, dropping the man at Malachi’s feet without worrying about what another knock to the head would do to the unconscious man.

    “Hey Malachi,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Betcha didn’t think we’d be meeting again like this! How exciting.”

    With a very visible swallow, Malachi finally spoke. “S-Spider?”

    Peter shivered. “Oh, it’s been a long time since someone’s said my name like that.”

    [That’s what we like to hear.]

    {I just came in my pants.}

    “Yellow!” Peter snapped, jerking his head to the left. “You don‘t need share that kinda shit with me. I don’t want to know, nor do I care.”

    {Rude,} Yellow muttered petulantly.

    “Anyway,” Peter said, poking the unconscious man with his foot. “You still want to escape with me, Malachi? I still think your name is the coolest, oh my _gawd_.”

    [We can’t take them with us,] White said.

    “I mean, it’ll take a bit to break us out, but I am a genius so it should be easy!”

    [Spidey,] White said.

    “And it’s not like you or your buddy can’t help, when he wakes up of course,” Peter continued.

    [We can’t take them with us!] White shouted.

    Peter’s head twitched unconsciously to the right. “No need to shout,” he grumbled. “I don’t get why you’re so adamant about this.”

    [We still have Tiny.]

    “Oh,” Peter said. “Riiiight. Yeah, nah. Raincheck on the slumber party Malachi, I have… _gifts_ to give. Of the physical variety.”

    “Then how am I going to get out?” Malachi asked, before glancing down at the man beside him. “And how am I supposed to take him with me?” he added.

    Peter waved a hand, unconcerned. “We’ll get you out,” Peter replied. “And then we’ll have to come back in for Tiny.”

    {I think we need backup.}

    Peter cocked his head. “Backup?” he repeated, as though it were a foreign term. “Like Logan? But he’s basically cut all ties with us since the fun we had with Weapon X.”

    [I think he’s thinking a little closer to home…]

    “No,” Peter snapped, voice hard.

    {We could just shout and be gone before they came,} Yellow argued. {Maybe stay for a peek…}

    [Oh yes. A lovely bit of self-torture.]

    “I said no,” Peter snarled, whirling away from Malachi and the unconscious man. “Which part of that are you having trouble with?”

    {The n.}

    [The o.]

    “We can get them out and then help them find somewhere,” Peter argued.

    [But they’re safest with them,] White pointed out. [The Tower has Jarvis.]

    {Not to mention Loki’s still probably there, whipped god that he is.} Yellow snorted.

    “But –” Peter began.

    [Yellow and I are agreeing on this. What more reason do you need to see that this is a good idea?]

    After a moment of tense silence, Peter felt himself slump. He sighed, running tender fingers through his hair as he thought. “Fine,” he said eventually. “But we’re not staying for a peek, Yellow. We lost that privilege.”

    {Whatever you say, Spidey.}

    Another sigh, and Peter dropped the film of fuzzy indistinctness he’d had shielding his thoughts since he’d run away from the Tower. He took a breath, pain coiled in his stomach as he called out for the person he had hurt but had never wanted to.

    **_“Mimic!”_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being absent so long, I turned my phone into a wifi hot spot for you guys you better thank me. Much love, hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think~


	16. Chapter 16

    Peter had thought he would have time to get Tiny and escape before Mimic – or indeed, any of the Avengers – showed up. He’d thought that he could re-fuzzy his thoughts and leave to perform his dastardly act of the hour without having to run into any unfortunate do-gooders. 

    He was very, very wrong. 

    Mimic, Loki and Stark – in full gear, no less – appeared in the room barely a second after Peter had called for Mimic with a crack that would no doubt bring more people running. 

    [{Fuck,}] the boxes chorused. 

    For a long, drawn out moment, no one moved. Loki was already peering around the room with a sly sort of interest, while Stark had eyes for the two people in the room that were not Peter or his little rescue party. Mimic, however, was staring straight at Peter. 

    He took a quick second to make sure his mind was back to being unreadable, before opening his mouth to speak. 

    Mimic took a step forward, and Peter reacted instinctively by moving until the door was within easy reach. Mimic hesitated, rocking back on her heels. 

    “Oh hey there guys,” Peter said cheerfully. “Can’t say I was expecting such a prompt appearance, but you’ll forgive me for not considering _Loki_ being of any help.” He shot the god a poisonous glare that Loki ignored. 

    “Spider,” Stark grunted, his visor flipping up to reveal his faintly annoyed expression. “We were expecting trouble.” 

    “Door,” Mimic snapped sharply, and Stark had his repulsors aimed at the door before Peter could blink. 

    Coincidentally, this meant that Peter was also within range of said repulsor blast, which was perhaps not the best place to be when he was still recovering from a multitude of injuries he had until now ignored. Peter tensed, sending shooting pain up his ankles as the two ends of the partly healed breaks ground against one another. His ribs also began protesting, and he could hear his heart thumping erratically in his ears. 

    Peter was wound tighter than a spring, and no sooner had the door opened – to reveal another faceless scientist, eyes glued to his notes – then Peter was gone, barrelling passed the startled man to freedom. He heard Mimic shout, heard Stark swear, but he’d never called them here for _him_. 

    {Run forest run!} Yellow cackled. 

    [Don’t forget Tiny!] White shouted. 

    Peter abruptly changed direction, dropping to all fours for increased speed. In any other situation he would have been webbing down the hallways, but he wasn’t for two reasons. One was that any webs he left would be a trail straight too him, and the halls were relatively empty, ensuring that there were very few witnesses who saw his frantic escape. 

    The second reason was that Peter wasn’t sure he _could_ spin webs at the moment. At least, not organically. 

    [Alright, where are we going?] White demanded. [We’ve passed Tiny, he was way back there!] 

    Yellow gasped. {We’re leaving Tiny all on his lonesome? But that’s so mean!} 

    Peter shook his head firmly, as though such an action would dislodge the boxes. “Suit,” he replied. 

    {We’re naked~} 

    [No we’re not.] 

    {Betcha all wish we were, huh? Swinging on all them dangly bits to and fro?} 

    [That’s enough, Yellow.] 

    {But the readers luuuuurve me~} 

    [If they have any sense they don’t.] 

    {Hey! No insulting our beloved fans! They’re the reason we’re still here, you know.} 

    While the boxes bickered, Peter found his suit, changed, and then continued on the route to the exit. 

    [{Tiny?}] the boxes asked. 

    “No time,” Peter grunted. “I’ll hunt him down later, when I’m not in danger of dealing with an emotional breakdown or two.” 

    {Fair,} Yellow said. {But we could always deal with our emotional breakdown by cutting up Tiny.} 

    [But going back means running into Mimic,] White pointed out. 

    The three of them were silent for a time. Peter continued moving for the exit, employing skills and tactics he hadn't needed to use for a long time to get past all of the enemies that were in his way without them seeing him. It was surprisingly exhausting, and he was disappointed in himself for failing to practice. 

    [We'll see Tiny later,] White said. 

    {And give him _allllll_ our love,} Yellow agreed. 

    Peter nodded once, silently thankful that they had all agreed on something for once, before vanishing out the closest door and swinging off into the night. 

 

* * *

* * *

 

    Peter sought refuge in an old safehouse of his, one that had been standing for longer than he had been living. The musty smell of the place combined with the sound of a thousand rats scratching in the walls set Peter's teeth on edge, but it was infinitely better than being anywhere near Mimic or the Avengers. 

    Peter flopped onto the dusty old mattress shoved into the corner, ignoring the terrified squeaks of the rats as they scrambled away from him. He took out a knife and began flipping it absently. 

    {Soooooo,} Yellow said. {When are we going after Tiny?} 

    "We have to give it some time," Peter replied. "Mimic and the Avengers will be looking for me. Even after I saved Malachi and that mind dude, I'll still be the bad guy. Best to let them lose my trail." 

    [We'll never be good enough,] White agreed. 

    {That's _mean_!} Yellow complained. {We tried to do good!} 

    "All the bad we've done isn't balanced out by the good," Peter snapped. "That's not how things work." 

    {Why not?} Yellow argued. {It sounds like it would work!} 

    [Think about it,] White replied. [How many people have we killed?] 

    Yellow gave a mental shrug in Peter's head. {Who knows, who cares? They were all going to die one way or another. We just sped up the process.} 

    [And that's another reason why it won't work,] White said. [We don't care enough to regret what we've done.] 

    "I regret," Peter said quietly. "Mimic should not have been hurt like that." 

    The boxes were silent for a long moment. [No,] White agreed reluctantly. [She shouldn't have.] 

    {Definitely not!} Yellow snapped. {And neither should Wade.} 

    Peter took a steadying breath. "I need to find out what that was," he said, trying to ignore the agony that seemed to be trying to tear his heart from his chest. No wonder some people were terrified of loving. "So that I can make an antidote, or make myself immune." 

    [Based on the notes it kind of looked like that was designed with you in mind,] White pointed out. [I don't think we would have the option of making ourselves immune.] 

    {But it wouldn't hurt to try?} Yellow asked. 

    "It might hurt a lot," Peter corrected. He watched his knife fall, snatching it from the air only moments before it stabbed into his left eye. He held it there, eyeing the sharp point with curiosity. It had, after all, been a while since he'd stabbed himself in the eye. What if the pain had changed, what if he wasn't as desensitized to it as he had been before? 

    [Don't lie to yourself,] White snapped in disgust. [You just think you should be punished for what you did. After everything we've already been through, you still think you should be punished. As if all the shit we went through with Tiny wasn't enough!] 

    Peter sat up, moving so quickly that he practically flew to his feet. "Don't you tell me what is enough of a punishment," he spat. "You don't get to tell me what I deserve, White. That right belongs to me, and it doesn't fucking matter if you've been with me for three or thirty years – _you have no right_." 

    {This isn't helping anyone,} Yellow said, showing a rare moment of clarity. {We should focus on the antidote, for now.} 

    Peter made a sound of disgust. "We all know something is wrong when _Yellow_  is the one giving the logical suggestions," he muttered.  He put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the safehouse. "Now. I know I have a spare chemistry kit in here somewhere. The question is where did I hide it." 

    {Under the floorboards!} Yellow screeched. 

    Peter blinked, looking pointedly at the concrete floor under his feet. "The floorboards, Yellow?" 

    {That's where all the _smart_  people hide their shit,} Yellow muttered, and Peter could have sworn the box was pouting. 

    [We might have hidden it under concrete?] White said, sounding unsure. [I wouldn’t put it past us, at any rate.] 

    Peter shrugged, skipping around the safehouse as he studied the concrete. "We'll be looking for a newer segment of concrete," he said, humming a tune under his breath. 

    [So whiter and brighter?] 

    "Say hello to a whiter smile," Peter said with a snicker. 

    It didn't actually take them long to find a patch of cleaner concrete. The three of them made triumphant noises while Peter wandered around trying to find something to break the concrete with. He found an abandoned sledgehammer webbed into a corner, which of course meant that no one but him could have put it there. 

    He raised it high above his head and was about to slam it into the concrete with all of his new strength when White shouted for him to stop. 

    "What?" Peter demanded, annoyed. He'd really been looking forward to smashing something – even if it wasn't someone's (Tiny's) bones, it would still be therapeutic. 

    [It's just, it's all delicate equipment, right?] White said. 

    {Oh,} Yellow said. 

    "Fuck," Peter sighed, tossing the sledgehammer aside. He rubbed his hands together. "Guess I'd better start digging." 

    He'd done something similar before – scratching his way out of his cell the first time he'd been imprisoned in the Tower. The fact that this time he was using both hands changed little, and Peter hummed as he dug, absently picking bits of concrete from his mangled hands when his skin threatened to heal right over them. 

    "He gets me deep in the chest, straight through my bulletproof vest." 

    {Yeah he's a sweet six-shooter he knows how to get down,} Yellow sang, and then started humming the intro. 

    "I tried to break loose, tight grip." 

    {Knocking me unconscious when he bit his bottom lip.} 

    [You think you're so tough, baby put your hands up,] White joined in reluctantly. 

    Peter grinned – White could never resist a good song. "He got me beat down, bruised up. I'm bleeding, barely breathing, but I cannot get enough." 

    {He kisses like a grenade, like a blade, or bayonet.} 

    "He gets me deep in the chest," Peter sang, making a pleased sound when his fingers encountered something that wasn't concrete. "Straight through my bulletproof vest." 

    The box was hard to pull out, so Peter pulled the box apart to get at what was inside. His breath caught when he caught side of a familiar frame. 

    [Oh,] White said. 

    {This isn't what we were looking for.} 

    Fingers shaking, Peter pulled out a photo from long ago. He hardly recognized himself – the bright, innocent smile on his face threw him off balance. The fact that he was willingly touching a human being without the intent to hurt... 

    Slowly, agonizingly, Peter brought his eyes to focus on the sweet smile beaming up at him from the photo. 

    [Maybe this is what we needed though,] White said. [A reminder.] 

    "Everything we love, we lose," Peter whispered roughly, fingers gently touching the glass above Gwen's smiling face. 

    {But Wade...} 

    "What we did to him," Peter said, breath catching in his throat when the memories flickered at the edge of his thoughts, "is unforgivable. We've lost him." 

    {Oh,} Yellow said. 

    The three of them were quiet for a very long time, and in the silence Peter made a firm promise to himself that he would keep his feelings – his dirty, disgusting feelings – away from Wade, and away from Mimic. 

    They didn’t deserve the sort of horror his feelings could bring them, and he was no longer willing to put them in danger because he loved them. 

    [Loaded the bullets with my blood in the rounds.] 

    {Yeah she's a sweet six-shooter she knows how to get down.} 

    "Until the kickback, when my heart hits the ground," Peter sang softly, gently placing the photo out of harms way before turning back to the box. "Let’s get on with the antidote," he said, his voice grim. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.
> 
> This fucking chapter. Oh my cheese. FFS. It's done, but I'm not happy. Took me way too long, I'm so sorry. I hope you enjoy anyway.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talking in this chapter, no real plot just tying up some loose ends ^.^ Everyone loves these kinds of chapters, right?

    They were close. Peter could tell, because the antidote he was creating _burned_ through his veins. The pain was bad, worse than the poison that had clouded his mind at the Tower, and that was how Peter knew he was close. Anything that hurt that bad would distract him from the poison and give him some clarity.

    [I don't know if the pain is all that great,] White muttered as Peter dry heaved in a corner. [This doesn't seem healthy.]

    Peter gagged, standing upright to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. "This is a small price to pay for control over my own mind," Peter pointed out, voice hoarse. He coughed, cleared his throat.

    {You don't have that on a good day,} Yellow replied with a giggle. {Hello, hi there!}

    "I might not have my mind to myself, but I certainly have control of it." He paused for a moment, before adding, "Most of the time."

    {I'd prefer an easier way to administer it. I mean, sticking a needle in our arm is fun and all, reminds me of a _great_ time, but can you imagine us having to stab ourselves in the middle of a battle? Not exactly the most effective method.}

    Peter grunted in response. "Ideally, I'd like to have it as a pill, and make it last longer."

    [The short duration is definitely an issue,] White agreed. [But it's not something we can change just yet.]

    {We did this much in so little time, what's a little more?}

    [What's a little more?] White demanded. [Spidey is _dying_.]

    {What?}

    "Shut up," Peter snapped tersely. "It'll heal, like it always does."

    [No it won't,] White snapped back. [You've noticed that your healing is getting slower, haven't you?]

    "It'll heal," Peter repeated.

    [You've been trying too hard,] White said. [The antidote is no good to us if you're killing yourself with it.]

    "I'm not killing myself with it," Peter half-shouted, hands curled into fists. He could feel his nails – overgrown, when had that happened? – cutting into his palms, but he ignored it. "You're being silly White."

    [Am I?] White challenged. [You're telling me you haven't noticed the fact that your ribs haven't healed yet?]

    "They're fine," Peter said.

    {They still hurt,} Yellow said slowly. {They ache, Spidey.}

    "They're fine," Peter repeated stubbornly, ignoring the answering twinge in left side. "You're imagining things."

    [We're not, and you're being an idiot.]

    {Yeah,} Yellow agreed. {I know we always talk about how you should off yourself, but we're mostly joking, you know.}

    [Not to mention this time we actually want you to fix your problems in another way.]

    {Killing yourself won't solve anything with this.}

    [Hydra will probably just find a way to bring us back as a mindless pawn anyway.]

    {Ew. I'd much prefer living than that.}

    [So you see, Spidey, we have to live.]

    {Not to mention they're still probably going to go for Wade and Mimic.}

    Peter ground his teeth, finally ripping off his mask and taking a breath of clean air through his nose. The mask had been rolled up to leave his mouth free, but he hadn't removed it since they'd made it to the safehouse and found the picture of Gwen. His hair was a mess, he knew without looking in a mirror, and he had no doubt that there would be dark circles under his eyes.

    "It doesn't matter," Peter replied, rubbing his face and almost cringing away from the feel of his stubble scraping along the cuts on his palms from his fingernails. "When I've perfected it –"

    [Don't you dare tell me that you'll be fine after you've gotten everything right,] White snapped. [With the rate you're going, you're going to be dead before you perfect the antidote.]

    {It's not worth it!} Yellow squawked.

    "Not worth it?" Peter repeated incredulously. " _Not worth it_? Have you forgotten _what we did_? Have you forgotten _who we hurt_?"

    [Their pain is not worth our death,] White said. [What we did was shit, but it wasn't our fault.]

    {We didn't do it willingly,} Yellow agreed. {We would _never_ do it willingly.}

    "Don't you get it?" Peter demanded. "That's why we need to have an antidote that works. So that we _never_ do it. At all. _Ever_. Again."

    {But if we kill ourselves doing it, we'll make them sad.}

    White scoffed. [They don't like us that much. They never did, no matter what you believed.]

    {No! They loved us – we were a family!}

    [You're delusional,] White snarled. [After what we did? They only way they still _love_ us is if they're insane like us.]

    Peter shook his head, fingers tangled in his hair. "Shut up, let me think."

    [No. Your thinking has given us nothing but trouble. You need to stop and _listen_.]

    {Don't listen to _him_ , Spidey. He's an unfeeling dickbag, he doesn't care about what we did.}

    [Don't listen to _him._ He's an emotional moron, he wouldn't know common sense if it came out and bit him on the ass.]

    "I said _shut up_!" Peter shouted, his fingers tugging viciously at his hair. "Shut up, shut up, I need to _think_."

    [Were you not listening, Spidey? You're thinking _too much_. Don't you remember how easy everything was before? When the only thing that mattered was the money we would be getting?]

    {And then we found something _better_! We found Mimic and Wade and we found a place to call _home_.}

    [And then we fucked it up, like we always do. Because we're not _meant_ for those things – we _don't deserve_ it.]

    "Stop it," Peter snarled. "Shut up, White, I swear."

    [No. You need to _listen_ to me.]

    "I don't need to listen to you! You are the last person I should be listening to about _anything_."

    [Except I'm not a person, I'm a voice in _your_ head. I was _born_ here, born from your _agony_ and your _pain_ and your _idiocy_ , and I will be here until the day you die.]

    "I don't need to listen to you," Peter repeated, his fist slamming into the nearest wall. The entire warehouse shuddered with the blow. "You're just a voice in my head, you're _nothing_."

    [I am something, otherwise I would have vanished that first day you panicked and tried to ignore us. Lie to yourself all you want, but don't try and lie to me.]

    {It doesn't change the fact that we found something important – } Yellow began.

    [And then we fucked it up,] White said bluntly. [I'm not going to sugar-coat it. We fucked up. But this time, it wasn't our fault. And we certainly don't need to kill ourselves over it.]

    "You don't get it," Peter said desperately.

    [I get it,] White replied. [I get that you think you could have stopped that from happening. I get that you wish it hadn't happened. I get that you're still so naïve that you believe anyone could truly love us. We're broken and dangerous and a _real_ monster. We don't deserve love. We shouldn't want it. We need pain and fear and blood. That's what has kept us alive for so long, and it's what we need now.]

    "But..." Peter whispered. "We were happy."

    [It was a lie. Is it really happiness if we're fooling ourselves?]

    {We weren't fooling ourselves,} Yellow argued. {We found a place – }

    [Listen to yourself!] White snarled. [As if we could ever find somewhere after what we've done. As if anyone would love us despite what we are capable of.]

    Peter swallowed. "But I..."

    [ _It was a lie_.]

    The silence seemed to last for an eternity before Peter spoke. "I love him," he said quietly. "And you telling me that it was all a lie won't change that."

    [Spider – ]

    "But I can pretend," Peter continued. "I've always been good at pretending, haven't I?"

    White was quiet for a moment. [I suppose you are.]

    "Okay. So I'll pretend that it means nothing to me. I'll pretend – for the sake of my remaining sanity – that everything is fine."

    {Spidey...}

    [That sounds like the best idea you've had yet,] White said.

 

* * *

* * *

 

    The footsteps woke Peter up from his sleep, and before he knew it he was on his feet, karambits in his hands. He'd found a spare set in the back of the warehouse, hidden behind an old painting he'd stolen from a fat man a long time ago. The painting itself was nothing special – Peter had just taken it because he'd felt like it.

    He was decidedly unprepared for the sight of Wade, in full Deadpool gear, standing in the entrance to his hideout. For a moment, he was frozen, but he remembered himself – remembered the act he'd decided to play – and slid his karambits away.

    “W-what are you doing here?” Peter demanded, cursing himself for faltering. Right after he’d decided to be unaffected, and already he was showing how he really felt.

    [Good job, idiot,] White said grumpily.

    {Waaaaaade…}

    [No. We don’t so this shit again, I am so done with _feelings_.]

    “Mimic said you’d contacted her,” Wade replied, strolling casually into Peter’s hideout like he owned the place. Which he didn’t, because Peter did. “Thought that might mean you were ready to talk.”

    Peter barked out a laugh that didn’t sound amused in the slightest. “I’m always ready to talk, big guy. Part of my stellar image, or did you forget?”

    “Did I forget something about you?” Wade repeated, and this time his strides took him closer to Peter. “I’d never forget anything about you, baby boy.”

    “That’s great. So you haven’t forgotten what my fist felt like when it collided with your face? Or my foot, for that matter?” Peter snapped back, not in the mood to be cornered with sweet words. “Because I haven’t forgotten that either, so I’d really appreciate it if you stayed right the fuck where you are before I decide a re-enactment is necessary.”

    Wade paused, rocking back on his heels as he studied Peter’s expression. Peter was frustrated because he couldn’t read Wade’s – the hero had his mask on.

    [Fucking pussy,] White sneered.

    {Does that mean we’re a pussy? I kinda want a mask too…}

    Peter nodded once, short and sharp, in agreement with Yellow. A mask would be good, because he had a feeling that his expression probably wasn’t doing too good of a job at hiding what he was feeling.

    "That wasn't you," Wade said carefully. "That was Hydra."

    Peter jerked – he'd said the same thing himself only hours ago, and now Wade was throwing it in his face. His lip curled.

    "I don't blame you for that, and neither does Mimic," Wade continued. "You know that, right?"

    "That doesn't matter," Peter replied, voice cold and sharp. " _I_ blame me, and that's not going to change because you throw some pretty words at me."

    [That's right,] White said approvingly.

    "Peter," Wade began, but Peter shook his head.

    "I am the _Spider_ ," Peter snarled, taking a step forward and baring his teeth, "and if you think I care what you or Mimic think, or the fucking _Avengers_ , you are sorely misinformed."

    "You're not the Spider anymore," Wade replied, and Peter flinched at the certainty in his voice. "The Spider wouldn't care that he hurt Mimic, that he killed me. The Spider would shrug it off."

    "And what do you think _I'm_ doing?" Peter demanded.

    Wade studied him. "From the looks of it, punishing yourself," he said. "How long has it been since you slept? And why do you still have a bruise on your face? I thought your new healing factor was almost on par with mine."

    [We should have had this conversation when we were rested,] White muttered. [He has too much ammunition.]

    {And he's _right_. What if he's right about everything else too?}

    [He's not! He's a liar!]

    {About what? What has he said that isn't the truth?}

    "He said he doesn't blame me!" Peter shouted, whirling away from Wade. "How can he not blame me? I _killed_ him, and it's not even the first time I've done it. Explain that to me, Yellow."

    {He hangs out with the fucking Avengers, Spidey. He's not the greatest at holding grudges.}

    "You don't _forgive_ people for killing you," Peter snapped. "It doesn't matter if he can come back, he died. I did that to him."

    "But I did come back," Wade said, and shit, he was close. Peter made to move away, but the firm, gentle grip on his shoulder stalled him. Peter could feel something bubbling in his chest, something awful and heavy, but he didn't know what to do.

    [Push him away!]

    {Kiss him, dammit,} Yellow whined. {It's been so long.}

    "And I _forgive_ you," Wade continued, his voice soft but firm. "I have died more times than I can count, Peter. Death is – for me – a part of life. It's not permanent for me, and it's probably never going to be."

    "I killed you," Peter hissed, but he couldn't move. He was frozen, hyperaware of Wade's warm grasp on his shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles into Peter's back. "Don't pretend you're okay with that."

    "Is that what the boxes have been telling you?" Wade asked, but there was no bite to his tone. "Or White, at least. I'm sure Yellow doesn't think that I'm pretending."

    {No,} Yellow agreed smugly. {I don't.}

    [Congratu-fucking-lations. He can read you like a damn book. All that means is that you're easier to fool.]

    "I might not be fine with you killing me," Wade said, "but I know it wasn't your fault. Hydra did that to you, made you do something you would _never_ do. I know that. Mimic knows that. Even the Avengers know that."

    Peter ground his teeth. "The Avengers know nothing," he snapped. "After all you've done for them, and they still treat you like shit."

    "This conversation isn't about me," Wade replied calmly. "Don't try and turn it, baby boy. You're working on a cure, aren't you? And by the looks of it, you're going to kill yourself getting it. I am one hundred percent not okay with that. Seriously.

    "Besides," Wade continued, "the Avengers have actually been treating me pretty good. It's no five-star service – what with Tony's mouth and Cap's rules – but it's better than it was. I think..." Wade paused, and Peter half turned towards him. "I think you helped, a bit. I was fine with how they were treating me anyway, but it's... better now."

    {Fucking finally.}

    [We shouldn't care,] White snapped, but there was no way Peter could deny the relief he felt echoing through his chest.

    Peter bit his lip, eyes trained on the dust motes slowly floating towards the floor. He could say he was glad, but wouldn't that mean that he was abandoning his decision again? Wouldn't that mean that he was caving, that he was weak?

    [Yes,] White hissed.

    {I mean, yeah,} Yellow said. {But what's wrong with being weak sometimes?}

    [We're _assassins_. We are the _Spider_. We can't afford to be weak.]

    {We're not assassins anymore – we're hired help!}

    "Hired to assassinate," Peter muttered.

    [Right,] White agreed. Peter could almost feel the magnanimous head nod from the box. [We're hired assassins, which doesn't make us any different to what we used to be.]

    {Our contracts are different,} Yellow argued. {We don't kill everyone anywhere anymore. We have direction and we have reasons for killing, more than just for the price tag attached to someone's life.}

    Peter blinked. "That was surprisingly deep, coming from you," he said.

    {It doesn't make me wrong,} Yellow replied belligerently.

    [We're still assassins!] White shouted. [Why are you listening to this idiot? This is all technicalities, and it doesn't change the fact that we kill people. We enjoy it. We _revel_ in it. Give us a nice murder any day over watching TV. We can't be weak.]

    "Peter?" Wade asked gently. "Everything okay up there?" He brushed a finger against Peter's temple, and Peter felt himself start to lean into the touch before he locked every muscle in his body.

    "Fine," Peter replied, taking a long overdue step away from Wade. He ignored the pang he felt when Wade's hand fell from his shoulder, instead focusing on the conversation that was still going on in his head.

    {You can be weak and a killer!}

    [No you can't. Weak means you're easy to kill, not you can kill easily,] White snapped back. [You're delusional if you think that we can show emotion – other than our usual psychotic tendencies – and still be the killer we need to be if that contract with SHIELD is going to stick.]

    {If being weak means showing emotion, then what have we been doing for the last year?} Yellow challenged. {We love Wade, we love Mimic, and has that affected our murder thing?}

    "Murder _thing_?" Peter repeated incredulously.

    {Shut up, you know what I mean,} Yellow mumbled back.

    [We stopped killing as much, and they became targets,] White pointed out. [We _love_ killing. It's something we're good at. We stopped because Mimic and Wade didn't like us doing it.]

    "Actually, I think we stopped mostly because I didn't need to eat," Peter said. "I still like killing, and I don't think Mimic ever had an issue with it."

    [But Wade did,] White said tersely. [And he's the one we have stronger feelings for. His wants directly impacted ours.]

    {I think we've gone off topic again,} Yellow sighed. {I pity our poor readers.}

    "Zip zoom, left and right," Peter muttered distractedly. "Now _swerve_."

    {Back track, double step to the, forward, back, line, sinker!} Yellow yelled.

    “Baby boy?” Wade asked.

    “I’m _talking_ ,” Peter snapped back. From the corner of his eye, Peter watched Wade mime zipping his lips and then begin to wander around.

    {Thinking,} Yellow corrected.

    [Listening to reason!]

    “ _Talking_ ,” Peter repeated sharply. “You aren’t my reason White, you never were.”

    [I’m more your reason than Yellow.]

    {You’re as asshole,} Yellow muttered.

    [ _You’re_ immature at the best of times, an idiot at the worst.]

    “Why do you think we can’t kill if we feel?” Peter asked, doing his best to steer the conversation back. “I kind of get the other stuff, but that bit… I don’t.”

    [We’ll get _sentimental_ ,] White spat. [He’ll ask us not to kill, and we won’t do it. He’ll have _control_ over us.]

    Peter furrowed his brow, feeling like his brain was finally kicking back into gear. “I think we did a pretty good job with the project with Logan. That was pretty sentimental.”

    {And bloody,} Yellow purred. {Very bloody.}

    “Not to mention, he’ll have no reason to say no to prey SHIELD directs me to,” Peter continued. “Plus, signing a contract with _them_ gives them control over us. I don’t see you complaining about that.”

    [That’s different,] White argued.

    “How?” Peter challenged. When the box failed to respond, Peter snorted and started flipping his karambit. “You’re so against this, but you’ve never actually told me the real reason. You throw up all these excuses, and I’m getting sick of them. For the last time, _explain it to me_.”

    The sentence encompassed so much, and White no doubt knew it. Peter waited, completely frozen save for his wrist, still flipping the karambit.

    {Come on White,} Yellow said. {Share with the class.}

    White sighed. [I just don’t like it. I don’t enjoy _feeling_.]

    There was silence for all of three seconds before Yellow screeched, {You’re a lair! You’re a liar and you will spend an eternity on this ship!}

    “There is absolutely nothing to gain by lying here,” Peter snapped. “Why don’t you just tell us?”

    Wade, who had remained silent, chose that moment to speak. “Baby boy, I know you don’t want me talking right now, but I gotta tell you… I’m not the only one who found my way here.”

    Peter jerked to stare at him. “What do you mean?” he demanded, senses stretching out. “There’s no one else here.”

    Wade flicked something in Peter’s direction – Peter snatched the bug out of the air. As he stared at the tiny listening device, he trembled with the urge to crush it between his fingers.

    {What the shit?}

    [Someone found us?]

    “It’s been here for a while,” Peter replied, voice scarily even. “There were no strange scents when we arrived.”

    “There are a few more,” Wade said. “No cameras. Just listening bugs.”

    [They don’t need cameras,] White pointed out. [We talk.]

    “Well, we _are_ the Merc with the Mouth,” Peter replied, pinching the bug. The sound of the little piece of metal crumbling under his strength did nothing to soothe the rage burning through his veins. “They don’t need cameras if we tell them everything.”

    {But if it’s old… Could it have been from Normy?}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I apologise for how long it's been since an update. I am still working on my other ongoing fics for those of you that are messaging me asking why I've abandoned writing on here. I haven't, it's just NaNo is approaching and my novel has been slowly gaining speed so I'm focusing on that a bit. Work has also been pretty hectic, so I'm exhausted by the weekend and have no energy to write, sorry >.<
> 
> Anyway, excuses aside, I hope you enjoy. And the next chapter will be less talk (or as much as I can get away with this character) and more action. Ty for sticking with me, and make sure you check me out on Tumblr (thewitchthetimeladythehuntress) if you haven't already ^.^


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